Hearts Aflutter
by Szept
Summary: Taylor will be hers. She doesn't have a choice.
1. Palpitations 1-1

The first time she notices her, they are both on the floor after crashing into each other. It's also the first time in Taylor's high school life when she's the one who spills her drink on someone else. To a normal person, it would be cause for embarrassment and perhaps even guilt, but for the socially excluded teenager, it's a cause for terror, because she knows, just knows, that the other student will take revenge for the accident tenfold.

So it's with understandable hesitation that she opens her eyes to see the person who, in all likelihood, will soon become one of her tormentors, if she's not among them already.

What greets her is the sight of an Asian girl with jet black hair, and eyes so dark, they almost match the color of her hair. Blank, blank eyes.

A shiver crawls up Taylor's spine.

"I'm so sorry." She scrambles to her feet, and offers the other student a hand, hoping, in spite of knowing better, that she may yet salvage the situation. Somehow. "I wasn't looking, d-do you need towels or-"  
She stops, noticing that the girl is now just staring at her outstretched hand, as if contemplating what to do with it. Shit, she's probably already planning how to get back at her. Out from the frying pen and into the fire... she was just making sure she's not being followed and now there's a new-

The other teen grabs her hand.

"It's fine." She says without a trace of annoyance present in her voice at the situation she's found herself in. Without much trace of anything at all, really, besides maybe curiosity. A peculiar look crosses the other student's face, and she flashes a smile Taylor finds not at all encouraging. It's not devious, not a smirk nor a smile that would in any way indicate ill intent. It's just... just. She can't quite find words to describe what is it that she finds so unnerving about it. Maybe it's the fact that its owner doesn't even seem to have noticed the juice staining her modest, though still nice clothes.

Taylor withdraws her hand once they're both up, after realizing the other girl doesn't seem inclined to do so. She keeps rubbing at her chest instead, a frown creasing her eyebrows.

"Uh... do you want help with that?" Taylor motions to the soaked clothes, not sure if it's wise to offer help, what with her school situation. But it'll be worse if she doesn't offer, won't not?

"It's no trouble." The student answers without ever looking down at her dress, a note of distress creeping into her voice for some reason. "Excuse me, I have to get going." She grabs her bag from the ground, and quickly leaves without saying another word, seeming almost in a hurry, as much as a person not outright running can be - leaving behind a bewildered Taylor.

That... was different.

She shakes her head, and picks up the half-empty bottle, leaving the hallway before her bullies can find her.

Other than her encounter with the strange girl, her day passes without any drama, which is just how she likes it. Any excitement at school is usually of the kind that leaves her with bruises, ruined schoolwork or dirty clothing. The usual jeers and dirty looks she receives on daily basis have stopped affecting her long ago. All in day's work.

The bus ride home is uneventful as well, though she can't shake a feeling that it shouldn't be, she can't say why. Instinct perhaps, one she's developed after suffering so many months of bullying.

A shudder shakes her whole body when she enters her home that day.

* * *

I'm so not sorry for this.


	2. Palpitations 1-2

The second time they meet, Taylor is looking for a place to hide and eat her lunch in peace, away from her bullies. No such luck. A group of girls breaks away from the flow of the crowd, and before their target has a chance to react, she finds herself surrounded by the clique that sometimes aids the trio in tormenting her.

She searches for a way out of the semicircle, but it's already too late. They have her trapped and pushed against a wall, causing no more reaction in the passers-by than a quick glance. And why would they care? It's just Taylor being fucked over by them all once again, nothing out of the norm.

"Oh look, it's Taylor," one of the girls chirps in a sickly sweet tone. Nat... Nat-something, she doesn't bother with remembering their names. "Where is she hurrying like that?" The girl in question doesn't answer, instead trying to push past the wall of bodies around her - to no avail, as a few of the students grab and pull her back. "How rude, she won't even say hello. Mother didn't teach her any manners, hmm?" The bullied teen curls up on herself, hoping that the stupid bitches will get bored quickly today. They usually do, without the trio to goad them on.

"Off to some important appointment I'm sure," states another one of the bullies with a sneer. "Well, he can wait. Emma's looking for you." Of course she is, it's not like these sycophants exhibit any free will of their own to bully her on their own.

"You know, I never could figure out what would she possibly want with a worthless bottom feeder like her," continues Nat-whatever. "Pati, be a dear and text Sop- and where does she think she's going?" The last part is addressed towards Taylor, as she once again makes a break for it while her tormentors are distracted. This time the push back lands her on her rump, with one of the bullies going as far as whacking her head for good measure - with nothing more than an open palm, not enough to leave a mark, but that was never the point. All they want, is for her to feel it, and know she can't stop them.

"Oooh, look, is she going to cry?" No, she's not. Just another stupid, childish jeer.

She remains silent as they keep going. It's not like anybody expects her to speak up, or it would actually change anything if she did. Taylor only clutches her bag closer, in case they try to rip it away from her, staring at the ground all the while, hoping it will swallow her whole.

"A teacher is coming." A vaguely familiar voice calls out somewhere behind the gang. The girls turn away from their victim, a few even stepping back.

"Oh for- alright. Someone, get her up. Move it." And just as suddenly as the girls had arrived, they leave Taylor alone.

Well, not completely alone.

A pair of feet clad in neat moccasins comes to a stop beside her, demanding the teen's attention.

She expects many things when she looks up, one of the groupies reluctantly following their leader's order, a teacher checking why is she sitting on the ground, maybe even one of the other students stopping to either gawk, or (fat chance) help her up.

What greets her sight is a mask of rage. The almost-black eyes she once foolishly thought soulless, now filled with such fury that Taylor half-expects lightning to strike down whatever they're looking at, further down the hallway. A snarl contorts the Asian girl's face, with nothing but hatred etched into every crease of it. With her arms are stiff by her sides, and both her hands clenched into fists, the girl's entire posture is just screaming anger.

And then she looks down to Taylor, her expression changing into one of concern that same instant - becoming soft, and - dare she say - tender. The teen drops down to her knees, tension bleeding out of her body. She looks deep into the scrawny girl's eyes, something Taylor can't accurately describe swirling inside her so-very-dark-ones.

"Are you okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

The change is so complete and sudden that Taylor can't help but flinch away. The Asian girl either chooses to ignore it, or simply doesn't mind, having in the meanwhile grabbed Taylor's hands.

"N-no. No more than usual," she replies, dumbfounded. What is she doing? Why does she act and sound like she actually cares?

"Than usual?" her savior asks worriedly. There it is again - this abrupt switch in demeanor as her eyes narrow and snap upwards, with her mouth setting into a thin line, and her hands clasping Taylor's own with enough strength that she has to wrench them free, lest they start hurting.

"I- yeah." She gets up, the other student quickly following in her footsteps. "Don't worry, it's- I'm fine." It's only a half lie. She's used to it, there's a difference.

The strange girl starts wringing her hands, all of a sudden looking decidedly out of her element. Bashful is a strange look on her, Taylor decides.

"Do you need anything?" The other student eventually asks, and Taylor has to fight not to laugh. She needs a great many things, but out of the corner of her eye, she can see that they're causing a scene. She knows full well how trying to help her will end, with the others going after this sweet (if odd) girl, and with her ending up resenting Taylor for that.

It's strange. She's hoped for so long for this exact thing, for someone to offer their companionship once more. And when the opportunity finally arrives...

"No," she finally says. "No, I'm good. Thank you." And with that, Taylor leaves.

She doesn't want any harm to come upon the girl because of her own troubles.

Still. It hurts when she sees her chatting and laughing along with the other students the next day.


	3. Palpitations 1-3

"Jesus Christ."

He's seen some fucked up shit during his service but this? He'd have emptied his gut in his earlier days. He might have lost most of his sensitivity, but seeing dead children still makes him sick to the stomach.

"No shit," distractedly murmurs Jeremy while flipping through his notes on the dead teen - one Natalie Frisk. He's a great guy, don't get him wrong, just... outside of work. Seeing the physician react (or rather, not react) to the bodies he investigates never fails to give the policeman the creeps."This one's gonna take some time. Can't say for sure how exactly she died."

Is he kidding?

"What. You don't think this-" he points at the remaining half of the girl's skull. "-is the cause?"

"Nah I think that's post-mortem." Jeremy takes a sip of coffee from his cup, making a slurping sound. "I mean, sure, that was the kicker if she actually lived that long, which, you know, I hope she didn't." Yeah this is exactly why the man doesn't have that many friends. "The good detective there says the kid got her kneecaps smashed somewhere over there." He points some twenty feet in the street's direction." The brain, uh, what's left of it, is near the dumpster but that's not where her vomit is. You see that hole here?" he points at her... stomach, technically. "Done with a blunt object, baseball bat I believe. Do you even know what kind of effort it takes to-" He suddenly pauses, only now noticing the look he's being given. "Uhm- anyway. Looks like a message if you ask me. Too much... everything, for your regular murder."

"Yeah, I've figured."

Poor kid. It takes special kind of shit luck to get into something like this. A slit throat, a fatal brain trauma, internal heamorrhage and sometimes even asphyxiation - those are pretty common in the ABB territory, not this. "Say, this wasn't a sexual assault?"

"Doesn't look like it. Not unless someone has a very particular way of..." he trails off, an uncomfortable expression appearing on his face. He shakes his head to clear it, they both do. Seriously, the policeman hopes nobody ever figures out what lurks in the physician's head. "No. It was not. I fucking hope not, anyway. Those are like, one in a few million cases- and it's still too many if you ask me."

They both fall silent as their co-workers pack up the body.

"You think ABB did it?" asks Jeremy.

"Probably. Doesn't matter anyway. No weapons, no witnesses, no nothing. Figures. Maybe you'll find something in the morgue but I think it's just gonna be one of those cases. I'm more worried about what's gonna happen when this hits the news. A white girl getting butchered like this in Lung's territory?" Whatever comes, it won't be pretty.

His friend blinks a couple of times before the implication hits him.

"Fuck's sake, I was hoping for a slow week." Well, that's one way to look at it. He himself had lost the hope long ago. Slow weeks just don't happen in Brockton Bay. It's either bad or even worse. Speaking of which...

"Hey. Wanna bet who ends up losing territory this time?" The officer is aware that his boss would grill his ass for making such bets but hell, it's not like the police, PRT or the goddamn Protectorate ever managed to wrestle back any ground they've lost to the gangs over the years.

"Kaiser, same as the last time." Hah!

"Merchants." Jeremy's head snaps to him with indignation coloring his features.

"That's fucking cheating!"


	4. Palpitations 1-4

Compared with the usual bustle of Winslow, Taylor feels tempted to call the school's hallways silent, these last few days. While contrary to popular belief, most of the students are not part of any gang, those who _are_ cause enough friction to make the whole school appear tense.

The students huddle together in their small groups, trying not to drawn attention from the rampant thugs. Taylor would know, she's been doing the exact same thing (well... minus the group thing) since the beginning of her first year, and the difference in everyone's behavior is evident. The gangs, ABB and E88 in particular, have apparently moved to flex their muscles on the school grounds, in addition to the small war currently waged on the city's streets. It's nothing new, to be sure. The delinquents have always been here - only they were hiding in the various nooks and crannies the staff don't usually visit.

Now? They're proudly displaying their colors everywhere in the building. The teachers aren't even trying to do anything about it any more, not after one of them got beaten up for pointing out that school is no place for "Whatever is it they're doing." The culprits got expelled, curiously enough. The girl only expected them to be suspended, but maybe her view on these things has became skewed, after her own crieshave gone unheard for so long.

She wonders what would happen if it were her bullies who beat a teacher up. Would they be expelled, as well? For some reason, she has trouble imagining it. What a slap to the face would that be for her, too. A year of taking shit from half the girls in her year, just for theTrio to be expelled for messing with someone else? Without the school ever acknowledging her own suffering?

...she can see that happening.

Speaking of the Trio... she wonders why Sophia's been absent for the last few days. Ever since the whole Natalie mess started with the girl's death hitting the news, in fact. Without her around, Emma's been much less aggressive with her bullying. She never noticed it before, likely because Sophia had never been away for so long, but her traitor of a friend seems nowhere near as confident with the gangs up and about.

How ironic is it that she has thugs to thank for her relatively peaceful week?

Peaceful enough for her to feel courageous today. She's taken her chance to eat in the lunch hall, for what has to be the first time in a year. And so far, no one is bothering her. Sure she's sitting alone, choosing a seat neighboring the table of five Asian youths in reds and greens will do that, but Taylor doesn't mind. She prefers her solitude. The ABB upperclassmen sitting close-by have elected to ignore her once they realized that it's just "the bullied kid". She's not worth their effort. She's no-one. And it suits the girl just fine.

"What are you doing here?" A voice Taylor has come to despise sounds from her side when she's halfway through her meal.

The teen sets her apple down, and turns her head to see Madison, along with two other girls whose names she doesn't think she's ever heard. it's easy enough to recognize their faces though, they used to hang out with Natalie.

There is something to be said about making others feel misery so that you don't feel your own quite so acutely. If they have it in them to feel bad about their friend dying, that is. Taylor can't be sure if they do. They've sure never shown any degree of decency towards her, after all.

They're part of the second circle, so to speak, hanging on to someone above them in Winslow's social structure to boost their own standing. Well, Madison at least is from the second circle. The other two are technically from the third.

All three share one common trait, though. They're unapologetic bitches on every beck and call of those they latch onto.

Taylor doesn't answer the question, naturally. Doing that just fuels their drive most of the time. She will have to endure, as always. She warily eyes the soda can on Madison's tray, hoping she'll decide that getting another is too much of a hassle to pour it on her victim.

"I asked you something." Taylor starts in surprise. She wants an answer? That's a new one. Their questions are rhetorical at best, simply stupid, most of the time, but they never actually care if she speaks up or not. It's just a way of starting trouble. Can it be that the little hanger-on is thrown off by her appearance here after so long?

Well fuck her, she's not saying a thing.

Madison taps her fingers against her leg, then grabs a bottle of water off one of the others' tray (because of course). Small mercies, she'll dry up within an hour and that will be-

She will later remember the moment an orange suddenly enters her field of vision, to hit her bully in the back of her head as downright majestic. Not because it knocks her tormentor off-balance, no. It's because of the bottle that the girl loses her grip on while flailing her arms, said bottle then arcing through the air and spilling its contents to finally hit one of the Asian delinquents nearby, soaking him and his meal.

The lunchroom does not suddenly go silent. Nor does it fill with palpable tension, and it most certainly does not grow still. There are more tables around occupied by gang members, more important people in the room than Madison and her company, certainly more important than Taylor. It's only their little bubble of the world that even takes notice of the incident, and yet Taylor feels as if her heart is about to still. She freezes up, her bullies too actually, when they realize what's happened.

The soaked boy sharply turns to them, a promise of violence flashing in his eyes.

"Who the fuck?" He doesn't have to finish the sentence to get his meaning across, and Taylor has no trouble pointing fingers.

She'd probably find the _eep_ coming from Madison hilarious, were she not preoccupied with praying that the situation doesn't blow up in her face, as they are wont to do.

The delinquent's eyes narrow, and him standing up is all it takes for the three girls to bolt, one of them still somehow managing to carry her tray. His gaze falls upon Taylor once more and she draws in on herself, still unable to as much as look away. It's bad enough having the trio and their buddies hunt her. If a local gang takes offense to her, too, then she may as well quit school.

"Get the hell out," he all but barks at her and Taylor is all too happy to hurriedly comply with his order. She grabs what's left of her lunch with the intent of finishing it in one of her- wait.

Where did her apple go?


	5. Palpitations 1-5

"Hi."

Taylor nearly jumps out of her skin at the sudden voice. The teen clutches at her chest, trying in vain to calm her hammering heart before she looks up at the "intruder".

She's greeted by a smile, somehow out of place on the Asian girl's features.

"Oh, uh. Hi," she replies with a nervous smile of her own. Sure, the other student has never harassed her, even helped her at times - but she seems to be making circles, and in Taylor's experience, it's the popular ones that she needs to be wary of.

A moment of silence passes between them, the girl's wide smile never wavering.

"Can I sit with you?" she asks just as Taylor is about to question her presence.

Taylor works her mouth for a moment, nervously looking around the small space under the stairs she's using as her hiding spot for the lunch break today. It's delightful, really. She's reasonably sure the janitor hasn't visited here in at least two months, going by the coat of dust she's settled herself on. Even the cobwebs are dirty.

"Go ahead." She watches, perplexed, as the strange student's smile becomes downright radiant when she sits down beside her, not giving any indication of being even slightly bothered by the dust she's getting on her skirt. "Um, are you-" sure you want to sit with me? "-why sit here?"

"Oh- um, I like it here!" Taylor blinks at the words. "It's more quiet here than at my usual spot. It's quite a lovely place to eat lunch, don't you agree?" What?

She discreetly looks around to confirm that no, the space-time continuum has not folded in on itself and dropped them off somewhere (anywhere) else.

"I-If you say so." Who is she to judge people for their particular tastes? Granted, she's not sure if she believes in the given explanation, but prying is rude. And the girl has been nothing but cordial towards her ever since their first meeting.

Even if her (otherwise pretty) smile is creeping her out just a tiny bit.

They spend the next few minutes in silence. One girl finishes her lunch while the other begins hers, both of them fidgeting. It's... hardly a companionable silence - more awkward if anything, especially after Taylor catches her companion sneaking a glance at her. She can't say if the other teen is embarrassed or not, but her own cheeks feel set ablaze as she's scouring her mind for anything to say. Here she is, with a perfect opportunity to have a talk with someone roughly her age, and all she can do is keep wringing her hands.

"So," she begins, desperate to break the silence, only to realize that she hadn't actually planned anything to say. Shit, what do normal people do after catching their company staring at them? "I don't think we ever introduced ourselves." Nailed it. "I'm Taylor," she extends her hand, hoping - praying - that it won't be rejected and she's not making a fool out of herself.

The girl looks startled at the sudden action. Her eyes switch from Taylor's face to her hand and back again.

"I-I'm Ayano," she stammers, sounding like she has trouble with squeezing the words through her throat, with her grip is almost slack when they shake hands.

Taylor's wondering what to do next, when a cute (objectively speaking), young-looking, and unfortunately familiar face peeks out from behind the stairs, stopping her train of thought in its tracks.

"There you a-" Madison cuts off mid sentence when her gaze lands on Ayano. The teen's eyes widen a fraction.

Oh, no. All Taylor has wanted was to be polite to the only girl in the recent months who has shown her kindness. But now that Madison has seen them together, she's either going to do something nasty to her, or force her to do it to Taylor herself. She never should have-

She watches in shock as her bully hurries away, face pale.

What.

She sneaks a glance at the girl by her side. Who's dropped her smile and is now sporting a small frown, an expression similar to her own, she's sure. What just happened?

Was it- was it because of Ayano? Taylor might not be the most well informed girl in the school, but even someone at the bottom of the social ladder hears bits and pieces at times. Like how the ABB at the school have apparently decided to pick a bone with her bully. But... Ayano is not in the gang, is she? She hasn't seen her as much as speaking to anyone in red and green, and Winslow's delinquents have been all too happy to show off their allegiance as of late. Besides, Taylor honestly can't imagine the sweet (if odd) girl in gang colors.

Just no.

Wait... may it be that Madison is by chance wary of the girl just because she's Asian? That-if that is it... she has no words.

"Um- do you want to take a walk?" Ayano's voice snaps her out of her reverie. "I like to stretch my legs after eating."

Taylor doesn't comment on how the girl's lunch is barely touched. She'd prefer not to be here should her bully decide to bring more people around, though. So yeah. Taking a walk seems like a good idea. She's not sure about endangering her company in this way though.

"I mean if you want me to. I could- you know. Just go somewhere else."

A smile returns to the other girl's lips, and it doesn't seems so out of place this time.

"No, I-I'd love it if you came. Come on. I'll show you where I usually eat."


	6. Palpitations 1-6

"Can you text Ayano?" Her head snaps upward at the name's mention. "She's running late."

"I- yeah, sure," she forces herself to reply and reluctantly begins typing the message. She'd much rather the tardy girl not arrive at all but- she told them to wait for her. So wait she shall. It's probably better than the alternative.

"Speaking of, you know how Jess broke up with Franics?" She shakes her head, she's hardly been in the mood to keep with the latest events these last few days. "Aishi caught him making out with Martha at Jess' own freaking party- the gall right? Anyway, the first thing she did was tell her. Apparently like- half the others knew it was happening but nobody said anything. Massive fallout."

The girl bites her lip. Gossip is what put her in this situation in the first place, she should stay as far away from anything concerning Aishi as possible. And yet- she can't help but feel hopelessly intrigued by the little tidbit.

"Good for Jess. Better to know who's your real friend before you actually need them and suddenly find yourself without any." She allows just a bit of bitterness to color her words, only for it to go unnoticed by Juliet. Figures. "I'm surprised Ayano told her though, I didn't think they were close."

"I guess she's just nice like that. Maybe she doesn't like cheaters?" They fall silent for a moment. "Did I tell you what she did for me last week?"

"Uh... you mean finding your phone?" Because if so then yes, twice.

"No- well, yeah that too but not what I meant. You remember what happened to that mouth-breathing stalker?" Mouth-breathing... ah.

"Greg? Kinda hard to forget, only been two days." And was it a sight to see that creep after he 'fell down the stairs'. "Wait, you mean to tell me she did that to him? Get outta here." She says in a strained voice, trying to convince her classmate that it was not the Asian girl just as much as she is trying to convince herself.

"Well, not directly but like, the rumor is Naoki beat him up, told him to stay the hell away or else."

A ball of ice forms in her stomach.

"That ABB?" Oh God. "He's barely around ever since..." _Since Natalie-_ the words don't go through her throat but are audible enough. "A-anyway. What does Ayano have to do with it?"

"Trish says she saw them talking with Greg groaning on the ground just around the corner. She looked kinda scary too- I don't think she wanted Naoki to roughen him up that bad."

Or maybe she wanted him to go all the way and was angry he didn't.

"Shhh, sh sh sh. Shut up." She startles, realizing that she must have said the words aloud. Juliet nervously looks around before her voice drops to a conspirational whisper. "Don't say that shit so loud. You didn't hear this from me but I heard her dad is with the ABB, like- some higher up, so when she asks them a favor they just go with it." She grimaces, she might dislike the girl but that is a bit much.

"That's... Juliet come on, I mean I talk with Peter yeah? Doesn't make me a nazi." A shame that he is one though, they guy is hot and actually kinda nice- a pity he can't extend the same courtesy to her non-white friends.

"I- well- sure but-"

"Hey guys." They both almost suffer heart attacks when the object of their conversation makes her presence known.

"Oh, h-hey Ayano." She plasters a smile onto her lips. Crap, she hopes the girl didn't hear their gossiping. She does a double take when her eyes land on the newly arrived teen's attire. "Uh... are you okay?" She asks when she sees a violent twitch run through the other student's body, no wonder, the gym clothes the Aishi girl is presently wearing don't exactly seem warm. Actually, now that she's paying attention, it does feel quite chilly here, even in her sweater and jeans. "And why are you wearing that? Don't you have PE at two o'clock?" She asks while checking the hour on her phone.

Ayano offers them a grin that's just a bit off, then again, the girl smiles rarely enough that any kind of smile looks kind of weird on her lips.

"Ah... I got something spilled on me. Ruined my clothes." She plays with the hem of her substitute T-shirt. "Which reminds me, I'm going to go the the mall this Saturday, you want to come with?" The Asian girl shoots her a pointed look.

"Oh!" She very nearly squeaks. "Oh I was planning to go anyway," she replies with forced cheer, glad that the girl does not seem to have heard the conversation she's been having before her arrival at least. "Juliet, what about you?" She turns to the third girl with a pleading expression.

"Eh, sure, why not. Haven't done any window-shopping in a while." Oh thank God.

"Great!" The high pitch of her "friend's" voice makes her wince. She stuffs her trembling hands into her pockets. "Come on, lets get something warm to drink. You look like you're cold."

* * *

Sorry for the mess with re-posting this, somebody on SB had an idea good enough that it made me rewrite the chapter.


	7. Palpitations 1-7

"- _the students have already been evacuated from the school grounds, and the police is currently securing the area."_

Lisa looks up from her laptop and in the TV's direction, where Brian and Alec are lounging on the couch, the latter sporting an exasperated expression. Not an unusual occurrence whenever their leader gets a hold of the controller, given their differing tastes, but what is unusual is the look of worry, bordering on fright, on the face of the dark-skinned teen. Her eyes snap to the TV screen, just catching the loudness bar display fading after being risen.

She caps her power before it can start supplying information she can easily acquire from just reading the headline- "Murder at Winslow - Brockton Bay". Well, damn. The gangs must have finally gone overboard. They've been posturing at that dump of a school for some time now, it's only been a matter of time until someone finally snapped. Who was it, she wonders, the E88 or ABB. They're not gonna say who's the victim, not so soon. Ugh, here goes her limit for the day... again.

 _Death not a result of gang violence._

...Huh.

She closes her laptop, knowing her thoughts will just keep jumping between her work and the information her power has supplied her with, and walks up to stand behind Alec's couch (as she's come to think of it). Only one of the boys is occupying it by now, Brian having stood up to make a phone call. It doesn't take using her power to figure out who and why is he calling - the amount of anxiety he's radiating is telling enough. The girl turns back to look at the TV feed.

 _Death not an accident. Murdered was a student, has been killed during school hours. The killer is a student, has killed during school hours. The killer knows they can use the gang conflict to escape personal scrutiny. The killer is known among the students, is among the students on the screen right now._

She jumps over and onto the couch to sweep the controller right from under Alec's nose - all the while intently scanning the crowd behind the reporter. Her teammate rolls his eyes at her, recognizing her thinker mode for what it is.

"Found something interesting?" he asks with the sort of curiosity she can easily identify as anything but.

"You could say that, though I doubt you'd care about the boring details." He flashes her an almost-genuinely amused smirk before kicking his legs up onto the couch, or rather, onto her lap- ugh.

She glances at the other boy, now pacing some distance away from the rest of his team. His hands are clenched into fists, and an expression growing more concerned with each passing moment Aisha hasn't picked up her phone. Then, his whole posture sags and a relieved sight escapes his lips. Lisa only realizes she's mimicked his actions when her Alec's foot pokes her side, drawing the girl's attention to his's crooked grin.

 _Doesn't understand her and Brian's reactions. Hasn't connected the place of murder with Brian sister's school. Doesn't know. Not concerned about his teammates' worrying. Finds their behavior faintly amusing._

Yeah, thanks, power. She totally couldn't tell by herself.

She goes back to watching the transmission. The chance of her spotting the right student among the crowd of hundreds is low. She knows that. She also knows that she's risking a headache by doing it anyway, but hell - while she might no longer care about every single murderer out on the streets, possibly finding the culprit here will earn her points with Brian. God knows she will need those when push comes to shove with Coil.

" _We- we found her in the bathroom,"_ the TV says. She tunes out the student currently talking with the reporter when her power catches wind in its sails.

 _Tenth-grader, friend of the murdered. Murdered was a tenth-grader. Was friends with the girl whose murder reignited hostilities between E88 and ABB. Considers the killer a friend. The dead girls considered their killer a friend._

Something unpleasant churns in Lisa's stomach.

 _The killer is hunting down Winslow students. Has killed the girl in the ABB territory two weeks ago._

Wait- the same killer? She knew the ABB were innocent of that particular crime but-

 _Gang violence planned. The killer knows the police will look for the culprit among the school delinquents. The killer is not a delinquent, has stellar reputation. The killer is accepted among most of the students. The killer uses that to lure and kill them._

Lisa goes pale, what about-

 _Aisha knows the killer. Aisha has classes with the killer. Aisha regularly talks with the killer._

Shit- shit fuck!

"Brian!" She calls out, her voice far from its usual confident self. "We need to talk."


	8. Palpitations 1-8

"Miss Hebert, what were you doing between 11:20 and 11:40 AM?" asks the policeman behind the desk. Taylor shifts in the hard chair, wondering if it's so uncomfortable on some sort of principle or if the police is really just that underfunded.

"Uh, I was fixing up my homework for algebra." She was in the middle of redoing it altogether, more like. The one she brought to school managed to mysteriously disappear, again. The novel thing about it being that for the first time, well, ever, she managed to recover it. Or, to be precise, somebody else found it for her after she was already done. But that's irrelevant, and besides, mentioning Ayano would probably mean more questions for her and that's no way to repay her kindness.

"Homework," the guy mutters while scribbling something down in his notes. She wonders what the point is; the recorder has been on since she came in anyway. "And can somebody testify that you were indeed doing as you say?" the man asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Well-" Taylor begins uncertainly. "I mean there were a couple of people that- might have seen me..." she trails off, racking her brain for anyone that might have indeed seen her. It's proving to be quite a challenge, seeing how she put so much effort into remaining out of sight and how, for once, it seems to have worked. Because of course it would when she'd need it not to. The girl realizes that the officer across from her is giving her a flat stare.

"Can you give me their names?"

"...not really. I don't know too many people in the school." What is she supposed to say? That she spent her break in a toilet stand? Yeah so much more inconspicuous. Anyway, what she said should be a good enough answer, if they actually ask around they will surely confirm her words to be true.

"How well did you know Alice?" She fights to keep the grimace off her face at the question, because she did know Alice - after a fashion. It's hard not to remember her bullies even if it is only by face.

"Not well, we never really talked." Which again, is true enough. It was always the other girl who kept hurling insults at her while Taylor remained silent.

"Do you know anyone who might have been in conflict with her?" His gaze is piercing, in the way that makes her think the man already knows the answer without her ever even thinking about it.

"No I don't." She sure as hell is not going to give the one name she knows fits the criteria, it's her own, after all, and she's quite sure she has nothing to do with the murder. A few seconds pass before the officer speaks up again.

"I believe that will be all then," he says while capping his pen. "We might call you if we'll need more help. Good evening to you, Miss Hebert." Ugh, finally. They've been at it for at least twenty minutes and for the most part, all that Taylor could manage had been a simple _I don't know_.

Without another word, the girl hurries out of the uncomfortably barren room. She doesn't turn back to see whether the stare she can feel burning into her back is real or imagined. She lets out a tired breath once she closes the door behind her.

She blinks.

There is still one person sitting in one of the chairs outside.

"Ayano? They still haven't called you?" The other girl shoots upwards from her seat and sends her a sheepish smile before answering.

"No no. I've had my hearing hours before yours." ...what? But she's been here since before Taylor ever came in.

"Did something happen? They're keeping you here?" Did she see something? Oh God, is the murderer after her too? They've barely got to know each other a bit and already Taylor can't imagine a worse injustice than something terrible happening to the kind, sweet girl in front of her. And seeing as the world has it out for the innocent...

"No I- I just thought I'd keep you company." The admission stops Taylor's thoughts in track, encouraging the blood flow in her cheeks instead. "You know, till your dad comes for you?" Ayano finishes while rubbing her arms.

"Ah-" for a moment, the taller teen finds herself having trouble with finding the right words to answer. It's... not new, not exactly, she used to have friends once upon a time but- yeah. She fell a bit out of practice a bit over the last year. "I-I mean sure, thanks. That's... thank you."

The girl's already beaming smile becomes something Taylor is not entirely sure she should be capable of pulling off. She also notices, with a dose of nervousness, that it's drawing a bit too much attention from the passers-by for said attention to be anything good. She would know, she has had ample time to learn such things in Winslow.

"Are you hungry?" her fellow student suddenly asks. "You haven't eaten today," Well, no, she hasn't. She had planned to but her lunch went missing along with her homework and the girl in front of her did not return it together with- wait. "Uh, I mean I haven't. It's been a hectic day hasn't it?" Ayano quickly adds, her cheeks a bit darker than is usual for her.

"That's putting it lightly." Taylor murmurs, her thoughts again turning to the murder. "And I guess I am. I haven't eaten this whole day either."

"Good." The older teen's brain performs a full stop to focus its power on what could Ayano have meant by that. "I-I mean, it's not good that you're hungry. It's good that I bought something. In the meanwhile." A beat passes between them. "W-while you were there." She finally stammers out, pointing at the door behind which Taylor has been questioned. They both stay silent for a moment before the shorter student silently turns back to fish out a sandwich in a plastic bag, and extend it towards Taylor, her eyes jumping to and fro between the taller girl and everything else in the hallway.

"Um... thanks but- aren't you hungry too?" A peculiar, almost dreamy expression crosses Ayano's features.

"Not at all," she answers even as her stomach lets out a discontent rumble, her smile only growing wider when the lanky teen glances down at it. "Really, I'm not." She shoves the bag into Taylor's hands and the girl has no choice but to accept it. She looks at the bag, remembering how the other student all but begged her to exchange their half eaten food during a lunch break two days ago. She shakes her head and rips the sandwich in two, offering one part back to Ayano, who upon seeing that Taylor has accepted at least some of her gift, takes it without complaint.

They're both about to dig in when a shout interrupts them.

"Taylor!" They both turn to see her father approaching, a frown marring his brow. "God. I'm so sorry it took so long, but there's been a shootout near my workplace and I- ugh. Are you alright? I was so worried when I heard-" she sneaks a glance at Ayano when she's grabbed by the shoulders by Dad's hands. The girl's expression has assumed an almost blank look, but it passes quickly enough that she wonders if she's only imagined it. Taylor taps at her father's arm and points to the other student.

"Hello," the black eyed teen nods at the man. "I'm Ayano, Taylor's friend." Something stirs in Taylor's chest at the word. Friend. She has hoped they were, yes, but dared not to assume. A silly smile blossoms on her lips, one she cares not to wipe off.

Dad, on the other hand, looks startled, as if he has only now noticed the other girl's presence (which he likely has), staring at her for a moment before a tired, yet honest grin flashes across his features.

"Call me Danny then, Taylor's dad. Please excuse me but I need to hug it out with my kid." An indignant squeak escapes his daughter's lips when he crushes her in a tight embrace.

"Dad! Come on, please!" She attempts to wriggle out of the hug but only manages to smear her father's shirt with a slice of tomato from her meal in the process. It's not that she dislikes hugs, not at all, it's that he's embarrassing her in front of her new, _and only_ friend. A friend who is now nibbling at her part of the sandwich, head tilted to the side and a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Sorry, sorry," he lets her go. "It's just- I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner, you shouldn't have had to go through this alone." She shrugs and points towards Ayano with her chin.

"I wasn't alone. Ayano stayed with me the whole time," she says, making sure to convey her appreciation of the fact in her tone.

"Really?" The surprise is clear in his voice, she can't blame him to be honest.

"Yeah." Wait... how comes nobody came for the other girl yet? "Actually. Ayano, is somebody coming to pick you up?"

"No." The freshman shrugs, not sounding bothered by the fact. And not in the 'well whatever' sort of way but more alongside 'why would I be bothered'. "I have my bike."

Taylor frowns. "Back at school."

"It's fine, I-"

"Dad, could we drive her home?" Ayano's voice of protest immediately cuts off, an emotion Taylor can't read crossing her face before her usual smile comes back in full force.

"I was about to suggest that myself actually," Dad replies. "No friend of my daughter's should have to go home alone after a day like this." Taylor smiles, silently agreeing. Too many innocents are hurt by the gangs on daily basis.

She never wants to learn of Ayano becoming a part of that statistic.


	9. Palpitations 1-9

"You don't have to come, you know?" she tries for the umpteenth time.

"I know."

"No, I mean like- you really don't have to. Come on, my friends will be there."

"Which is precisely why I'm coming." Her brother's answer prompts a groan from Aisha. She loves him, really, she does. But at times, talking with him is like pulling out teeth, only with less screaming - if not any less pain.

"Bro, I told you-" _Repeatedly, at that -_ "-my friends aren't murderers."

"Well, somebody from your school is, and before they're caught I'm going to make sure nothing happens to you." She scoffs, because yeah right- as if he could keep track of her 24/7. Besides, it's one thing to know there's a killer among the students, but hell will freeze over before she believes that one of her friends is it. And yes, it's scary shit, and she's grateful for having Brian stay with her on Wednesday after the murder took place, and even yesterday, but for crying out loud! It's Friday, and it's not like she was friends with the murdered girl, so as to need moral support. She's not in mourning, it's just been... shock. Shock at how that sort of thing happened in her school, right beneath everyone's noses, just a few dozen feet away from her while she was sitting in class, being told off by the teacher, doing jack to help.

But she got over it, life goes on and all that. An incompetent bunch they may be, but, for once, the police seems to be putting their all into solving the case. Maybe they will actually catch the murderer for a change. They do have a limited number of suspects, after all. Well, the quicker the better. Having Brian following her everywhere is getting old real fast.

Knowing there is a murderer in her school isn't doing anything to put her mind at ease either.

But! At least the school is closed so she doesn't have to worry about that at the moment. And it will remain so for at least the next week, which is... well, great. Yet at the same time, it leaves Aisha with an ashen taste in her mouth. Enjoying a break because of somebody's death feels kinda wrong. Still, nothing she can do about it, so at the very least,she might as well make the effort to distract herself. And while Brian might be intent on embarrassing her in front of her friends, she doesn't get to spend that much time with him, and hey, he'll be paying for her so that's a plus. Think positive!

...Yeah, it's kinda hard when she can already imagine the holes her brother will be drilling in everyone's back with his eyes. Hell, scratch imagination, he's doing that right now! Scouring the perimeter like some sort of-

Wait, is that Ayano by the cafe table? It is! With some other girl, too. And there's... something wrong with her face, she realizes. Namely, that there's a smile on it. Now, not to say that the girl doesn't smile, but very rarely does Aisha get to see her sporting that sort of wide, dare she say, _joyful_ grin currently adorning her features. She wipes at her eyes to make sure she's not seeing things. Nope. It's still there. Okay, she might have plans, but Aishi behaving like that begs further investigation.

She immediately sets a course towards the pair, plastering a grin onto her face.

"Hm? Weren't we going to the theatre?" her brother asks, once he catches up.

"Yeah, yeah, I just saw someone I know."

"We're already late."

"Please. The ads take like, twenty minutes before other movie trailers even start." They both wince at the mere thought of the last time they were forced to sit through three Coca-Cola ads in one sitting.

As they approach her schoolmates' table, she takes in the appearance of the teen Ayano is sitting with. She doesn't have much going for her in the looks department, with the sort of body that can't seem to decide if it wants to pass into adulthood or remain a teenager for a few more years - tall, very tall for a girl, but with no curves whatsoever. Her way of dressing does her no favours either, dark greens and greys, not quite baggy but far ( _far_ ) from form-fitting. Hmm, she seems familiar now that she- ah. Of course she seems familiar, they sometimes pass each other in Winslow halls.

"Sup." She greets the two, making the taller one jump in her seat while her friend blinks a couple of times, with the sort of wide-eyed expression one has when brought out of their own little world. It's the first time Aisha has ever seen it on Ayano's face and it's... uncanny, in how normal it would be on anybody else's. In how it just doesn't fit the mental image of the girl in Aisha's mind.

Some vile magics must be at work here.

"Hi." Ayano finally answers after rebooting, her tone faintly annoyed, while the other girl only gives a small wave as a greeting.

"Your friends, I take it?" Brian joins in, his voice level but with a level of underlying tension that only his sister catches.

"Maybe~" She answers in a sing-song voice before sitting down by her classmate, not missing the tick of her eye, and extends her hand to the other, still silent teen. "Name's Aisha." The girl's eyes snap away from her brother.

"Taylor," the scrawly girl mumbles. Okay she's... quiet, almost subdued.

"And that hunk over here is my brother. Brian, say hi to the girls." He rolls his eyes at first but nods his greetings before taking the last seat by the table, immediately hogging the attention of Ayano's companion again. Heh. It never ceases to amaze her how can he remain so oblivious to the obvious ogling he's so often the subject of.

Her grin slips for for a moment when she glances in her friend's direction to see a withering glare directed her way, only to return with a truly shit eating quality once the realization clicks in her mind. Because come to think of it, she's never seen Ayano as much as annoyed, ever. Not at the school, not at the teachers, not at others- nothing. And now this whole new expanse of reactions shown in this girl's – Taylor's - company?

The very same girl who is damn near undressing her brother with her eyes. Oh, this is gold.

"Sooo," she begins, wiggling her brows at Taylor - "what are you two doing here?" - who ducks her head when she spots the three sets of eyes looking at her, nervously wringing her hands.

"Ah-"

"Just hanging out." Ayano tersely cuts in, her expression having mellowed into a touch less hostile one.

"Just hanging out, huh?" She completely ignores the way Ayano's eyes narrow at her tone. Come on, she's not about to pass up an opportunity to screw with her friend like that. "Say, wanna hang out together?" Ah, there it is, another eye twitch. "We were on our way to watch a movie with Ernest and Cass, plus a few others."

"I wouldn't want to intrude." Oh, really? A blind man could see Taylor wants to intrude on Brian's day in spite of her words.

"I'm not sure if I have the time," is Ayano's response.

"Didn't you say you have the whole evening?" Aisha has to curb her snort at Taylor's question to her - well, date, for all the girl doesn't seem to be aware of it.

"I just remembered I have something, I can stay half- maybe an hour, sorry." Aaand gotcha.

"Oh, the ads go on for at least half an hour. _We_ can wait and go with Taylor, you know, not to leave her out on her lonesome. What do you say?" She asks the lanky girl.

Brian's groan is a long and suffering sound, one born of experience of knowing that he can't really change his sister's mind without ruining their outing. Taylor, in the meantime, shoots an uncertain look in his direction while biting on her lip.

"I- I mean I guess if Ayano is going, then I'll come with you guys, if you're sure it's no trouble."

"Actually!" the Asian girl starts. "I think I'll stay after all. What you can put off till tomorrow, do tomorrow, right?" Aisha can almost smell the plastic making for Ayano's smile.

"I don't think that's how the saying goes," teases Taylor, cheer palpable in her voice in spite of her words.

"More realistic, sure." Aisha butts in.

"Well, if you're coming with us, then come on. You still need to get your tickets." Brian states before standing up. His sister barely holds herself from cackling when Ayano abruptly stands up with a screech of her chair to strategically position herself between Taylor and the boy.

This day just got a lot more interesting.


	10. Palpitations 1-10

Console duty. Of _course_ it'd be console duty. Her first day back, eager and ready, so what do her superiors do? They sit her ass down in front of the console and tell her that she'll be manning it for the rest of the week.

Honestly, what the hell? She's always thought it's a dumbass idea to put a hero to this sort of work in the first place. The police have people to handle it, and nobody can bullshit her into believing the PRT doesn't have money for one goddamn guy to handle the comms, not when it could put another hero on the streets. Has to be something else - a way to punish the heroes in Sophia's professional opinion.

The most annoying part? She's done nothing wrong.

The girl scowls and scratches her raw leg, currently resting on the desk. Piece of shit, it's driving her crazy the way it is. Sure, having both legs beats being a cripple, but couldn't Panacea make it the same as her old one was? Wearing long pants is quite literally a pain right now, but hey! She can deal with some pain if it'd mean smashing a few faces in, instead of being basically grounded by Piggy. What, is she being punished for having her leg torn off by one of Oni Lee's exploding clones? For having stood her ground? Well, she's been punished enough already!First, she had to put on over twenty damn pounds so that Panacea had something to regrow her leg from, which took its sweet time, and made her feel like a bloated mess in addition. And when she finally had her limb back, it felt almost like the skin under a torn-off nail for the first few days.

And now this. Somebody just kill her now, before she falls asleep and has her ass grilled for it.

School's gone to shit too, not that she cares, really. It's just that she's expected to keep it relatively clean, and while sustaining the status quo was not much of an issue, returning it is gonna take a lot of effort she'd rather spend on something else. Hell, Emma even says that Hebert has gotten bolder with her away. Seriously, it's like she can't leave her moron of a friend for _five minutes_ without stuff going sideways. She wonders if Hebert will keep up her attitude once she returns...

...Nah. She has yet to see whatever Emma sees in that girl. Doubtless, the loser's only feeling bold because Sophia isn't there to remind her that bottom feeder like her doesn't get to act that way. She'll take care of it when the school starts again. It wouldn't do for Emma to start hanging out with that freak again, under the misconception that she's suddenly grown teeth.

She snatches her phone from the desk when the screen lights up with a message. She has set it on mute, since there's no way in hell, none, that she's letting any of the Wards ever hear her ringtone. Okay, let's see... huh, speak of the devil, it's Emma.

An involuntary smile briefly curves her lips upwards before she forcefully suppresses it. It wouldn't do for somebody to see her smile because of a stupid text. It's just a dumb text, nothing to get excited over. Besides, questions would follow and it's nobody's fucking business but hers who she's talking with. And then they would whine when she'd say that to their faces, another talk with Armsmaster would follow... same old, same old.

She gets her password wrong twice, her thoughts back in the hospital where Emma was wasting both their time with her visits. But – well, it wasn't that bad, Sophia supposes. It's not like she had anything better to do than listen to the redhead's animated chatter. And she was useful for one thing, at least. That is, for seeing how well could she hide how painful even the most minute of movements were, with her stump, for however long the girl's visits lasted. Seeing the admiration in Emma's eyes had nothing to do with it. It was a test for herself and herself only!

She brings the message up – _U heard from madison_ \- ...why is she texting her about their third wheel?

"Hey." She most definitely doesn't jump up at Dennis' voice.

"Hey yourself." He takes her reply as an invitation to pull a chair for himself. Ugh, what is it in her talking back that makes people think they're not unwelcome? Can't they just leave her well enough alone? She doesn't say anything? Wrong. She starts talking? Even worse. It'd be nice if they'd finally make up their damn minds.

 _\- Heard what_ \- she types back to Emma.

"How's your leg?" The boy asks after setting a foam cup of – Sophia leans forward to see – tea on the desk, just beside her feet. She doesn't thank him, he's probably messed the drink up if past experience is anything to go by.

"Good." _Go away._

An uncomfortable silence descends upon them, broken up only by the muted, idle chatter between Aegis and Kid Win on their patrol. Well, uncomfortable for one of them at least. For her part, Sophia doesn't particularly care. That, and she has something else to occupy her attention.

 _\- Anything_

 _her parents called me_

 _she hasnt come back from a shopping trip today_ \- She scoffs. It's not even been a full day. Shopping trip. Riiight. The girl is probably in the process of acquiring a hangover right at this very moment. Dumb not to tell anybody, if you ask her, what with the shit going down on the streets, but it wouldn't be the first dumb thing any of them has done.

"That's good." Fucking... what does he want? "Uh, anyway, we're planning to go out tomorrow, you know, the whole team-" She mostly tunes him out while writing her reply, mostly, just enough to still pick up the important parts.

 _\- Prolly some party_

 _tell em u dont know_

 _her mess to sort out_ \- She takes a sip of her tea and scowls. The hell did he sugar it with? Table spoon?

"-so, would you like to go?" Oh? He's finished?

"No."

The boy looks as if he's about to say something, before he breathes out a sigh, his posture sagging.

"Right, worth a shot, I guess." Not really, no. Her team's chatter gets on her nerves even more than Emma's does.

He leaves without another word, and Sophia doesn't watch him go, her eyes focused on the new message.

 _\- What if its another killing_ – Unlikely, but the question gives her a short pause nonetheless.

The girl shakes her head. Even if it's another attack, they won't know till Madison doesn't turn up sometime tomorrow. And regardless, what is she supposed to do about it? She is not an investigator. She kicks asses and takes names, not this boring investigation bullshit. Not that she couldn't, of course, should the need arise.

 _\- Chill_

 _cant do shut now anyway_ – she glares daggers at the auto correct before aggressively slurping at her tea. It might be terrible but it's there. She can busy her mind with complaining while waiting for a reply, if nothing else.

 _\- K just promise me youll help me look tomorrow –_ Sophia's eye tics.

Of all the stupid-ass things to do... of course she'll help if it comes to it, lest the idiot actually finds something. Said something being trouble she won't be able to dig herself out of on her lonesome. Prey she might not be, but there is a big fucking difference between being a predator, and being a parahuman predator. Emma will fight all the same, but as much as Sophia admires it, it also poses a bit of an issue in how it's up to her to drag the other girl's ass out of trouble.

It's not like she cares or anything. It'd just be a bother to find someone else who would understand her the way Emma does.

 _\- Sure -_


	11. Palpitations 1-11

"Dad! You seen my toothbrush?"

"Uh, in the bathroom?" the man shouts back from the kitchen. "It's not there?"

"No! And I don't remember putting it elsewhere!"

"Well keep looking! I know I didn't take it!"

Uh-uh, yeah, sure. She knows full well where she put her toothbrush this morning. Dad must have forgotten whatever he's done with it. Just like with his keys, they were about to change the lock when Taylor found them in the washing machine. Ah, well, it's about time for a new brush anyway.

She takes a half-empty pack from the cabinet and picks out a brush for herself, the pink one. New brush obtained, she continues with her evening routine, thoughts far away - fixed on the trip to Broadwalk that she and Ayano have planned for tomorrow. The last time was fun, though the teen has a distinct feeling that whatever it was that Ayano had decided to put off till the next day had had the girl stressing over it too much for her to really enjoy the movie. Or maybe she just didn't like the weird mix of sci-fi and gore that the film had to offer. She can sympathize, for a low budget movie (or so she was told anyway) the effects were good enough for bile to rise in her throat.

Still, it was fun hanging out like that. Aisha might have been a bit... much to handle, the younger girl being more lively than herself and Ayano combined. But being honest with herself, Taylor will freely admit she will let a lot slide if it means not being alone again. Having fun again. Though the fact that she enjoys herself thanks to somebody's death, even if the girl was one of her bullies, leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

The doorbell brings the girl out of her reverie. The hell? It's well past ten PM.

"Can you get the door? I'm still washing the dishes!" Dad shouts. She spits the foam out with a grimace, because really, she's kind of in the middle of something as well, and he's so much closer to the door than she is. Still...

"Yeah! Just a sec." Still, he's her father. And if he's already doing dishes then she can deal. Dishes are gross, and most of the time it's up to her to clean them. She wipes her face and walks down to the door, not caring that she's still in her pajamas, whoever it is out there should damn well expect people to be in their pajamas at this hour. She's only still up because she doesn't have to get up early in the morning, she's probably going to read a book before falling asleep too.

The teen looks through the peephole, because just _who the fuck_ comes to your door around ten PM. Gangs don't have that much of a presence in this neighborhood, and besides, why would they-

Oh. It's the police.

...what are they doing here at this hour?

"Dad! It's police!" A sound of something shattering comes from the kitchen.

"Miss, open the door!" Ah, right. Right. She complies with the officer's request just as her father appears in the hall.

"Can we help you?" Dad greets the four men standing outside.

"Mister Hebert?" One of the officers, the superior apparently, points to Taylor's father.

"That's me, yes."

"We're here to in regards to the disappearance of one Madison Clements-" What? " and the Winslow murder to conduct a search of your house." A search? Isn't- aren't those meant for finding evidence of a crime? This doesn't make sense. And why would there be any need for four officers to be assigned for this? What happened to Madison?

Warily, Taylor takes a step back, partially hiding behind her parent.

"A search?" Dad's thoughts have apparently taken a similar path to hers.

"Yes, Sir. Here's the warrant." Dad takes the slip of paper from the officer's hand and after a brief once over, sighs.

"Of course." He moves aside to let the policemen in. "Why is my daughter a suspect in all of this?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, that's confidential information."

"Of course it is," murmurs the lanky man. He places a hand on his daughter's back and guides her to the living room where they sit down, their every step followed by the officer who delegates the others to the search. And why? Do they think they're going to try and hide something? That's – well to be fair that probably a fair assumption when dealing with criminals and should be a part of the protocol- but they're not criminals!

She fidgets in her seat for a few seconds, working her mouth, wanting to say something to break the suffocating silence but not knowing what.

"Madison is missing?" Yeah, terrific ice-breaker. She should totally ask about a dead relative next.

"Yes, her last known sighting was on Sunday. It's possibly connected to the Winslow murder." So why are they here? Is she-

"You suspect my daughter is involved in all this?"

"Strictly speaking, yes." Taylor blinks.

"But that's-" The girl starts.

"Taylor," Dad cuts in, eyeing the standing man with no small dose of hostility. "Stop talking. I know how these things go, and you're not obligated to say anything." The officer simply nods at his words. "They're gonna find nothing and just leave in an hour or two, best just wait it out." She narrows her eyes at him.

"You've been through this kind of thing before?"

"Taylor." Oh, right. Stay silent. Right.

She only manages a minute of fidgeting before reaching out for the remote and switching on the TV. Dad seems content to just wait and do nothing, but for her, the silence feels as if it'll swallow her whole. She switches to the news channel, nothing interesting there, but at least the presenters keep talking. The reporter is halfway through the day's summary when a new voice draws her attention away from the screen.

"Jack, we might have something here." They what? Taylor and her father's heads snap towards the officer coming back down the stairs with a book in his- no wait, that's her 'bullying diary'. The idea hit her a few months ago that she should start keeping a record of what's being done to her and by whom, to one day present it to the principal or... whoever would listen and help her with the shit that she has to go through because of the trio and the girls who... who... died.

Taylor's body goes rigid.

"Yeah? What is it?" The man – Jack, replies.

"Possible motive, total clusterfuck on all fronts no matter what if this checks out." Her notebook exchanges hands and Taylor finds herself having trouble breathing. Possible motive? She's been bullied for over a year and now she's a murder suspect to boot because of it?

"Miss, remain in your seat." The officer's voice is firm, stopping her in tracks from... When did she get up?

"Taylor?" There's an emotion underlying Dad's concern which she can't place. Panic? She doesn't answer. How? "Taylor, what's happening?" She doesn't know what's happening, that's what's happening!

"Miss Hebert." The officer who stayed with them snaps her notebook close. "You'll be coming with us for questioning."


	12. Palpitations 1-12

What a beautiful mess this night has turned out to be. It's all well and good that the school is closed thanks to what's-her-name's death. Mariko would have bought the girl flowers for her grave as a "thank you" for saving her a few days of truancy - if she felt like wasting money, that is - or if the murder hadn't been pinned on the members of her boyfriend's gang, reigniting the somewhat-simmered-down hostility between the ABB and E88 yet again. Honestly, it became a serious pain in the ass weeks ago, but now that some dumbass actually went beyond posturing and shanked a bitch in a fucking bathroom stall? She has to look behind her back 24/7, again, and much as she enjoys messing with the skinheads after school, she's come to appreciate the sort of tentative truce the gangs used to have abut fighting in Winslow, now that it's not there.

The teen absent-mindedly rubs her still sore temple on a turn of her fourth step.

And now there's another white girl missing, so of course it's their job. Well, in all fairness, it most likely is, not that anyone's gonna admit to it. Not after being told, in not quite so tame language, that the brain-dead cocksucker who would go and do something stupid like that again, would have their guts pulled out through their asshole. Yeah, no. No she's not going to be the one, and she dearly hopes none of her friends are stupid enough for that, either. Seriously, Lung could just up and go fuck the suckers up already.

Preferably tonight too, while she's here, safely away from the shit that would fly. Police department's holding cell would not be a bad place to be under such circumstances. Sure, she's hungry and will almost certainly have to find herself a new boyfriend, but so what? Hooking up with someone stupid enough to attack the cops coming to his house (while a bit drunk, yeah but that's part of the damn point isn't it?) is a poor life choice. Still, she could do worse. She's fairly sure Mako's never cheated on her, at least. He also got her in with the ABB at school, not the best life choice either, but at least the Nazis don't give her shit any more. Honest life can suck and choke on it, if it means bending over whenever some bald dickhead wants to brighten his day through making hers worse. The funny thing is she hasn't done anything this time (well, anything she's sitting here for, anyway), and she's still spending her night in a cell.

Yeah, they did fuck with that missing girl at school from time to time these last few weeks, but the bitch had to be made an example of, after spilling her shit on Ryo. If they just let her be, how would that reflect upon him? Upon all of them? But none of them had done anything beside roughing her up a bit, certainly nothing like murder or kidnapping!

And she's still here regardless. No justice in the world, none at all. It would sting less if they brought her in on something indeed connected to her ABB related activities, but no. It's getting caught up in some missing person case she's got nothing to do with.

She forces herself to stop pacing, and sits down on one of the hard benches, her fingers immediately starting to drum against her knee.

Maybe it won't be so bad. She's a minor, with a first offense that, in point of fact, she didn't even commit. It wasn't her that put up a fight! Long as they don't decide on making her a scapegoat, she should be fine.

Her head shoots upwards at the sound of approaching footsteps, and she doesn't fight the coming yawn. Ugh, what time is it? Has to be after midnight, and she's not been interrogated yet. This the time? She's been dozing on and off since she got here, but the hard bench is hardly a good place to rest. Are they hoping to tire her out before-

Ah.

It appears she has a new – well – first, cell mate. Mariko watches as the lanky girl is led into the small room, where she sits down on the bench some three feet beside her, too distracted to even notice her presence. Wait, she knows that girl from school - what's her fucking name... Her- Heb... H-something – that creepy freshman's hanger-on that's been hanging out around the ABB spots lately. Small world. What is she doing here, of all people? She remembers the kid being a recipient of... four times or so the amount of shit they dished out on that missing girl. Hell, the kid was even there at the time when that bitch splashed Ryo, taking shit, as usual. She'd stumbled upon it a few times. Man, but the girls doing the bullying are fucked up. She understands wanting to have someone beneath her, but to actually be at the top, one has to put down more people than just one, pathetic loner. For all their posturing, those girls don't know shit about actually being up there - as easily proven by Mariko and her friends. Now that she thinks about it, she's sort of surprised the girl hasn't brought a gun to the school yet.

Wait – no way.

"Don't tell me you're here cause of that missing bitch too?" The younger teen startles, looking around as if seeing the cell for the first time. A flash of recognition shows in her eyes as they land upon the room's other occupant.

"I'm- sorry, what?" Hmm. Maybe there's a reason she's not well liked.

"Did the pigs pull you outta house cause of that missing bitch too?" There, that has to be more coherent.

"Uh-" She scratches her arms. "You mean Madison?" That her name?

"I guess?" She shrugs, the fuck would she care what her name is, or more likely, was? "I wouldn't know. That one from the lunch hall, yeah?" The girl nods. "Then yeah, Madison." They fall silent for a moment, as Mariko waits for words that aren't not coming. _Like pulling out teeth-_ "So what 'd you do?"

"Nothing." Heh. No, for real, she doesn't seem the type to, but would she herself say anything different, were she involved in murder? Of course not. Pity it's a bit harder to deny having anything to do with her boyfriend. Fucking Mako, they probably could've gone without being arrested - but nooo.

...lightweights.

"Aha, and that's why you're here, hmm?" The girl has enough spunk to look annoyed. She grins. "Come on- what bullshit they came on you with? I'm told I might have something to do with that Madison girl's disappearance. Fuck if I know how." The why of it is pretty clear, after all. Nazis avoid killing their own, she gets that. ABB does the same, after all - but hell, they even don't care about screwing gaijins, if one's into it. Somehow, she can't imagine the skinheads letting one of their own do the same. Though it is kind of icky in her own opinion.

"Yeah I- I don't know what's going on either."

Mariko rolls her eyes.

"Not what I'm asking. Work with me here, we've got a full night of doing jack shit ahead of us." And now she's intimidated her back to staring at her feet. Ugh. "Up. I said look up. There. Why are you here?"

"I shouldn't be talking with you."

"Heh. Well - true. But we already are. So?" She raises her hands up in question.

"...people think I sicced you guys after Madison."

"Khpft." What. "Pft." Her shoulders shake for a moment before she lets herself laugh in earnest. "You for real?" She's shot a frustrated glance before the girl goes back to staring at the floor. "Holy shit, that's gotta be like- the stupidest shit I heard this week. You, sic a- sic anyone?" Man oh man, who the fuck even thought this up. If there's a high point to this night, that's gotta be it. Hell, if she doesn't get in too much shit, then all this might just be worth it for the laugh she's getting out of this.

That loser, with ABB? That's- well. It wouldn't be unthinkable, were the girl not a four eyed beanpole with a tragically lacking fashion sense, who also happens to be at the bottom of every social ladder she can think of. Mariko can confidently say she doesn't know a guy who would go for that combination. Some are into that sort of body, and even personality, but with all of that at once... yeah, no. No, she doesn't know anyone. She doesn't hang out with creeps like that.

"Wh-who the fuck said it?" She manages once her giggles subside. Somebody needs to have their ass kicked, and she needs to tell the others that the girl beside her can no longer be tolerated in the others' general vicinity too. Friend of that freshman or no, not if it seems to be enough to spur this sort of bull.

"I don't know!" Ooh, now she actually sounds kinda angry. "Is that cause I'm hanging out with Ayano?" That the creep's name? "Cause she's Japanese? That's enough for someone to think she's ABB?" Well, there is a beautiful sort of simplicity to shelving the world that way, but...

"You mean, you never noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Good fucking God. She _is_ that oblivious.

"That you're like, among the only three white girls to ever hang where you do?"

"I... though it was just about that thing you do? You know, with the don't approach – sort of aura thing?" Heh. Well, there is that. People just assume they don't tolerate others, which is only somewhat true.

"Nah." Not that she needs to know that. "That creep friend of yours-

"She's not a creep!"

"-asked, and nobody gave a shit as long as you weren't bothering us. By the way, this-" she gestures between herself and the girl. "-prolly means you no longer get to sit near us. Fucking really. You sure you don't know who's spreading that stuff? They need a talking to." Preferably delivered by the guys, for associating the school's woobie with them.

"Witness protection." They both snort, one of them amused, the other bitter. "Some witnesses, I didn't do anything. Bunch of liars, the lot of them." Mariko grins. Must be oh-so-harsh on the white kid, huh?

"Shit happens." They lapse into silence again for a few minutes, Mariko tapping her foot against the floor and the younger girl brooding in her spot, occasionally staring at - or rather, through - her older companion. Holy shit, how can that loser stay unmoving like that for minutes on end? She can barely hold herself from pacing again."So, you gonna say why they brought you, or not?" Again with the empty stare. Ugh. "I'm here cause of my dumbass boyfriend. Put up a fight when the pigs came to his house. He's fucking lucky he didn't get shot."

"You attacked cops?"

"Pft-no! My boyfriend did." It takes a second before it clicks in the four-eyes mind, and for comprehension to show on her face.

"Oh." She works her mouth for a moment before speaking up. "They found my diary." What. "Uh, I write about all the bullying there and-"

"Wait, seriously? That it?"

"I uh, I might have fantasized a bit, in my- other stuff." Mariko scratches her head. Fantasized? What? "They, they just wanted to take me in for questioning at first, and were looking for phones and stuff, messages I think. Um- Dad said I wouldn't go, it was late, you know, but... they found the rest and uh – yeah." Yeah?

"I don't get it, what 'd you mean fantasized? Like, what, teenage shit?" A pained grimace crosses the girl's features.

"Drawings, stories... look, does it matter?"

"Dunno. I'm bored. And I hear talking about shit is cathartic. So?"

(-)

When an officer finally comes to take Mariko for questioning, the teen instantly shoots up from her spot on the bench, one placed as far away from where the other girl is sitting as the small space of the holding cell allowed her.


	13. Palpitations 1-13

"Come on. You'll like it, I promise."

The other girl only makes a face. While Aisha would normally call that a success, she would rather draw out a smile this time. Mending Ayano's sour mood is the whole point (well, half of it, anyway) of tonight, after all. "You already know, like, four others there, they won't complain if you drop in unannounced."

"I'm not worried about that." She sounds strained, annoyed. Angry, almost.

"Taylor?" Her friend nods in answer, and Aisha can't find it in herself to resist rolling her eyes.

"Look, she'll be out by tomorrow – well, I mean, unless they find something on her, which..." she trails off at the look she's given by her companion. "Which, yeah, not gonna happen." They walk in silence for a few moments. All the time that she manages to somehow not to voice her next thought, with a teasing smile present on her lips. "Unless there's something you're not telling me about?"

"Hmpf."

"There we go!" She bumps into Ayano's shoulder. Give it an hour or two, and she'll have Ayano laughing like a maniac. Booze may or may not be involved, depending on if her other friends get involved. Might not be the best of ideas to get the other girl intoxicated in Aisha's opinion. It would be an instant mission failure should she turn out to be a sad drunk. And while getting her home wouldn't be much of a problem - she's so not dealing with the parents. "And lemme tell you, it's not that bad in there, the cell I mean. Spent a few night in there myself – I mean, can't always make a clean getaway when a party gets too wild, y'know?"

"Not really, no."

"Ah. Well then, it's high time you got to." She all but chirps out. And really, it is. Maybe then she wouldn't be so strung up about her not-girlfriend spending a day at a police station. Everybody does, sooner or later! Well, every friend of hers, that is - sometimes even because of Aisha herself. "It'll be awesome, you'll see."

"I don't really do parties."

"And that," Aisha states dramatically, even raising her index finger, "is precisely why I'm taking you to one. Worrying yourself sick won't do you no favors. Just let go for one night, enjoy yourself! Everything's gonna be better tomorrow." Or not worse, at least. She hopes. "Tell you what, how about we go meet up with Taylor when she's released?" The look of annoyance gives way to one of... well – not curiosity - Ayano's expressions don't often range that high - but it is inquisitive. "You could buy her, uh- I don't- something sweet. Sugar makes everything better, always." Even the talk of it, apparently, seeing as her friend's lips twist in a small smile. Score! She didn't put so much effort into ditching her brother, just so that Ayano could be his spiritual extension with that frown of hers. No frowns allowed! As long as they're not caused by her, that is. "And then we could go and try to punch some fashion sense into her head."

A sound somewhere between a snort and a dying animal escapes Ayano's lips.

"Define fashion sense," she answers with a judging look.

"Hey! I'm doing you a favor here, no mocking me. It's called style. I got one, you got one – Taylor... um-" She's pretty much the antithesis of having a style. Heh, hehehe, oh, does she want to see Ayano's reaction to having the older student wear something more form-fitting - or simply wear less, for that matter. "-uhm, she needs guidance. She's never gonna catch some boy's eyes otherwise." Aha! Without fail, the girl's expression turns sour for a passing moment, like it always does whenever she hears any talk about Taylor and boys (Brian in particular). It would be adorable if it weren't so freaking hilarious.

"Maybe she doesn't want to catch any." If lemons had a voice... keep it together Aisha, don't laugh, she can do it. She can!

"Nonsense! You seen the way she was ogling my brother?" Brian himself was probably the only person who didn't. "She's definitely in the market."

"Why the sudden interest?" Oh, it's a treat to watch her trying to act all prim and proper, with all that acid right beneath the surface. Can't be good for the girl. Fortunately, Ayano has her friend to help burst the bubble! It's no good to keep all that jealousy bottled up. The Asian girl needs a way to unwind, one Aisha intends to deliver.

"The friends of my friends are my friends?" _If you wanna be my lover,_ and all that shtick. "I mean, I didn't even know her before I found her with you. Is not like you were friends with her before you met." For a moment, Ayano looks very much like she's going to argue that indeed, they were friends (or more, who knows with that girl), before meeting, before giving it up. Her face doesn't exactly relax, but it does look less strained.

"I suppose."

Aisha's not sure if it's a comfortable silence or not that they fall into after that. She usually just tends to ignore whatever awkwardness crops up, and soldier on. Ayano, for her part, mostly doesn't even seem to notice any when it comes, and boy is it a spectacle to behold whenever it happens with other people around.

"You know, I've been wondering actually. I get that you don't know my brother, but I haven't seen him pay any attention to girls in like- ever. Maybe he's just gay?" That would answer so many of her questions... and create so many others.

"Why ask me?"

"Uh..." _Really?_ "Cause you might just know more about that than me? Dunno, just wondering aloud."

The other girl looks pensive for a moment, going as far as to drum her thumb against her chin.

"See what sort of stuff he reads, check his browsing history, on his phone too, that's important - people don't usually delete that from phones as opposed to computers. See what company he turns around in, pay attention if he's looking after someone when they pass him by. Does he work?"

"Nghyeah."

"Talk to his co-workers. See if he talks about girls. Check his room, and for hidden stuff, I mean, like under the mattress or behind furniture." … "Maybe take her to a pool?" she quietly murmurs the last part.

Aisha can only stare, for the time that it takes the other girl to come back to the world of the living.

"What?" she asks, voice perfectly neutral.

"N-nothing. It's uh-" Phew, ok. Maybe- maybe it's best she tries to forget that one."-very comprehensive. Thanks."

"Not a problem, this way." With that, she looks takes a sharp turn towards an alley they're passing.

"Hey, where're you- it's that way." She points in the direction they're supposed to be heading in.

"We're going to Rill seventy-three, right?" Aisha nods. "There's a bus station on the other side here, we can cut a few minutes if there's a bus soon." A bus? The shorter teen attempts to recall, and finds that she's no idea whether there is one or not. "My legs are starting to hurt. Please?" Seriously? She knows Ayano is not the most athletic of girls... or athletic at all, to be honest, but it hasn't even been a mile!

"You know, you need to start actually doing stuff in PE." Then again, she's lazy too. "Got change?"

"Yeah, come on."

"Wait, wait." The other student stops, looking back expectantly. "Mother never taught you about dark alleys and all that? Let's go arou-" Aaand she's gone. Ugh, who knows? Maybe her mother did not teach her about the dangers of taking shortcuts like that. Do- did those work different in Japan? All she knows about that hellhole comes from one history class (which, pft, yeah) and old anime, shortcuts like those led to nothing good in those either. Is it racist that she's basing her knowledge of that place on some old cartoons? Well shit, nobody's perfect.

"Fuck, wait up!"

That girl sure walks fast for someone with aching feet.

She runs up to Ayano, everything becoming hidden in the dark as they enter the unlit alley. Urgh, she hates these places. They usually smell like piss and decay, and this one is no exception. Some dead cat or dog must be rotting away in just a few steps' distance. An all-around dump, like many- she barely avoids colliding with the other girl as she abruptly stops. What the- oh. Good going, a dead end.

"Shortcut my ass, told you we should've gone round." The girl doesn't answer. "Ayano?" Finally, she turns around, holding something in her hands. What is it? Aisha can't tell, her eyes still not adjusted to the dark. "Let's go, this place is giving me the creeps."

"So quick to leave?" She whips around at the new voice, booming from behind them, to see a silhouette of a man framed by what little light comes from across the corner of the alley.

Fuck. Ayano is so getting her butt kicked later on.

"Yeah, you know. Kinda drab in here, nothing much to see and all." Her face almost hurts with the forced smile. Though she doubts the guy can even see it. "Just, gonna leave and forget this place ever existed. Right?" She says over her shoulder, though the girl she's addressing apparently doesn't catch that she's supposed to follow her lead, staying silent instead.

"Not gonna be that simple." Is that a knife in his hand? Fff- of course it is. God fucking dammit, Ayano, fuck! "You empty your pockets, and you better empty them - cause I'm gonna check. And then you get to walk away. Got it?"

 _Fuck you._ "Got it." Losing twenty dollars plus her shitty phone isn't worth being cut up by some dipshit. All the same, fuck him.

"And you?" The man asks Ayano.

"Yes." Eh? How does she get to sound so calm, relaxed almost, in a situation like this?

"Good. Come here then, no funny business."

They approach him, slowly, Aisha being the first of the two to part with her possessions, turning out her pockets to avoid being touched. Then it's Ayano's turn.

"What, no phone?" The man asks once she appears to be done.

"No." Christ...

"Tsk, right, a teen without a phone. I'll believe it when I stumble- ooooo! Fuck!" Aisha throws herself back, just in time to see her friend getting whacked in her face with a fist, and being thrown back with the force of the hit. Something clutters to the ground. A knife? But the thug is still- Ayano had a knife?

"Couldn't just make it easy, could you?" Their robber gasps out, holding his side. She- she stabbed him. And he hasn't even dropped his knife.

Aisha breaks out of her stupor, running to the Asian girl, now on the ground. Unresponsive, unconscious. Ayano's stillness in stark contrast to her own, shaking hands.

The next moment, there's a hand on her shoulder, and she's thrown, head first, into the wall. Ow, ow-shit, piece of-

"And now-" She looks up from the ground, covering her head. "-all of our evenings- are ruined," their robber heavily breathes each word out. "But guess- what? I'mma make- sure- yours is much- fucking worse."

The first kick digs itself somewhere below her ribs, making Aisha cry out in pain. Something- something gives, cracking under that boot. The second kick lands in the exact same spot, making the girl whimper on the ground, teeth clenched. The third kick...

-the world pulls sideways, pulling Aisha along with it, a sensation of loss overcoming her spinning mind-

...the third doesn't come.

After a few seconds, she chances looking up from under her arms. Through tear filled eyes, she sees her assailant walking in Ayano's direction - by now woken up, and somewhat successfully trying to get to her feet. A kick, planted squarely in her chest, knocks her back down. Their mugger then making sure the teen won't be able to stand up again, trapping the heavily panting girl beneath his boot.

"Was it worth it? Losing your life over some fucking phone?" Life?

No, no- no-no-nononono!

She slams into the man, making them both fall over, with him at the top and her beneath him, both on their backs. She would howl in pain, if the effort she'd made hadn't pushed all the air out of her lungs already. She unsuccessfully tries biting into his thickly-covered arm, as that is what's in front of her face, ignoring both the grinding pain in her chest the man's struggling causes, and the freezing cold of the ground beneath her.

It can't be more than seconds when Ayano joins her - falling on them both, stuffing something into the man's mouth as to muffle his screaming, then raising a knife. Her knife.

Aisha freezes when it plunges into his chest, suddenly keenly aware of her own right beneath it. The blade doesn't touch her, but the ice that instantaneously forms in her chest gives her a moment of doubt. With the second strike comes the man's even more violent heaving, and with his, her own, as his weight crushes into her wound anew. The third one makes the ice in her heart explode in a panicked frenzy.

She starts violently thrashing, screaming, beating her fists against the both the man and the girl above her, neither paying her any sort of attention. Only one of them shows any signs of slowing down, as with each next stab - each felt by Aisha as if it would be the one that would go all the way through, into her own body – she can feel the mugger grow weaker and weaker, life seeping out of him, until he stops struggling completely. She grows quiescent along with him, eyes shut, trembling like a leaf, capable of nothing but listening to the sounds of a blade cutting and tearing at flesh, to the rapid, heavy breathing of the one wielding the knife.

Until, finally, it stops.

She's not sure how long the silence reigns. She doesn't care to count the seconds.

Eventually, some of the weight lifts off, and Aisha immediately scrambles from under the unmoving body. Only when her back hits the wall does the teen allow herself to whimper. Fuck. Fuck! This- this was-

She puts her head between her hands, biting back a sob.

A commotion before her draws the girl's attention away from her thoughts, a welcome respite. Her eyes land upon her- her friend, looking around as if searching for something. And whether be it thanks to the moon, or her eyes having finally adjusted to the lack of light, Aisha can now see the whole alley.

The body.

The blood.

The- rotting _thing_ sticking out of the man's mouth.

Ayano... Her face terrifyingly void of anything at all.

"A-Ayano?" She staggers out, having to force each syllable through her teeth, clenched from the pain "Ayano?" The girl doesn't pay her calls any attention, instead kneeling by the cooling body to rummage through the sweatshirt's pockets. The girl pauses, for one short second, as she pulls out both their money and Aisha's phone. "Ayano!" Nothing. "T-this isn't funny!"

Undeterred, the taller girl cleans off the blade, and her hands, on the mugger's clothes, then – with a soft click – folds the blade in her hand, before putting it away in her pocket. Along with the money and Aisha's phone, her expression not changing one bit the entire time. Is- is she in shock? Can't she hear her? Maybe her ears got busted when she got hit?

The unheard girl pushes herself further up against the wall. In the meantime, her company having taken off her jacket, turned it inside out before slipping it back on. Effectively hiding the bloodstains. Before the shorther girl can walk over to her friend, Ayano starts walking away.

It takes Aisha only one look at the body lying on the ground to make her decision. "H-hey! Wait up!"


	14. Palpitations 1-14

It's going to bruise, Ayano realizes as she takes a look in the mirror, her cheek already swelled to twice its usual size. There's no way she can hide it, even were she to put on enough make-up to raise questions of its own. Her parents will want to know what happened, once they see it. Taylor will worry too.

Her gut drops at the thought.

What is she to do? Avoiding her Love until her cheek heals is out of the question. It will take a week, at least, more likely around two, for the bruise to disappear. Taylor, meanwhile, is supposed to be let out of jail sometime tonight, according to her father, so of course she's visiting Her tomorrow, and the day after that, as well. She has to make up somehow for the terrible time that Senpai's had. There isn't a way around it, and as much as she despises the thought of making Taylor worried, their date will surely more than make up for it - as well as the indignity of spending a night in jail. She will make certain of that!

But that is tomorrow.

She shoos Mi away with her leg; the cat has a bad habit of trying to get attention by using her claws. The pet spares her a discontent mewl, before lying down on the rug by her owner's side. Having made sure she's not about to be attacked, Ayano grabs the switchblade from the sink to submerge it under a stream of warm water. She absently watches the pink-tinted liquid wash away the dried remnants of blood from where the girl can't reach, where it shouldn't be, not tonight.

Why was she in that alley? She should've been stalking one of the other Winslow students, making sure there had been another murder with Senpai still locked away, giving her fool-proof alibi. Instead, she got into a fight with some crook over her phone. In hindsight, she could have handled the situation much better. Stabbing him and immediately bailing would have worked just as well. Perhaps she needed it, though, as a reminder that she needs to be more careful. The moment when he knocked her down, when she saw him approaching; unable to raise herself before he'd get to her? She realized, in that very moment, that she could very well never see Taylor again.

Luck had him drunk, or on drugs. If he didn't trip over... Well, she doesn't question luck. It had her meet her Love, after all.

Besides, there is a more important question regarding the incident. Why was she there in the first place? It shouldn't be sickness, nothing feels out of order, and even if - she's been seriously ill a few times in her life, none of those ever included suddenly realizing she had no idea as to why she was doing something. It's not like she forgot her walk there, either.

A mystery. One she can think on later, when doing so won't risk her parents getting back home to witness her cleaning blood off her clothes.

The girl grabs the hairdryer to get rid of the remaining moisture on her knife. She's already lost one once. Having forgotten to thoroughly clean it, the rust ate the blade away in less than a week.

Once done, she puts the knife away, and turns to the tub, her dirty clothes calmly floating in the cold water. She should be able to recover the jacket. The shirt, however, might pose an issue. She had to turn her jacket over. Walking home with the red splotches out for all the world to see was not really an option – but she should have taken her shirt off for that; the very same that Senpai complimented her in. There's little chance of getting the stains out of the white material. Dejected, the girl fishes the shirt out from the tub, giving it a critical look. Maybe if she mixes, say, thrice the amount of detergent Mother usually uses it'll-

"-leave and you won't even knooow!"

Mi bolts from the bathroom before Ayano's mind has time to register that somebody is right here, energetically shaking her by her shoulders. Somebody who, she suddenly remembers, is not supposed to be alive, and who she's lead all the way into her house without ever paying attention to everything the other teen has subjected her too. It would explain, at least, why she – well, _they_ \- wound up on the ground, twice. She will give the girl one thing: she's persistent in her pestering.

Now, how does she handle this? The night can still be salvaged.

"Aisha?"

"Oh my fu- finally!" cries out the dark-skinned teen, her voice carrying too many emotions for Ayano to recognize any – her puffy eyes give her a clue, though. "I've been trying to get you to hear me s-since the alley!" Yes. They missed the bus back home because of it. "And what the fuck was that anyway!?"

"You got powers." Didn't she notice? It seems – obvious, now that she thinks about it – that she can think about it.

"No shit I got powers! I'm talking about you - this!" The girl points to the knife, and Ayano does her very best to look offended at the remark. "You killed a man!" Oh. That.

"I defended us." How does one fight a parahuman? They keep stressing in classes and TV that a normal should never even attempt to do so. She remembers now. The girl threw herself at their mugger and neither he, nor herself, even noticed. So, physical confrontation is right out.

"No. You really didn't." Aisha looks away, a grimace – a sign of anger if the Asian teen reads it right. It's hard to differentiate it from annoyance, worry, or disturbance. All of them being negative make responding so much easier. Over years, she's found that people will usually calm down on their own, eventually. Seeming vulnerable and apologetic usually speeds the process up, as well.

Ayano looks at her feet, timing her silence so that enough time passes for Aisha to believe her hesitance genuine.

"I'm sorry. I-" couldn't let him get her phone? She would want to know why. "-panicked." She thought killing him would be easy. A rude awakening, that. The girls weren't nearly as difficult to handle. She'll have to start working out.

"What, you stab people when you panic?" No. She doesn't panic, after all.

"When I think they will do stuff, yeah!" Pity card usually works, right? Besides, it would make sense for her to be scared of men in dark alleys. "You might not have noticed, but there's a murderer hunting schoolgirls out there!" Aisha's eyes widen, her expression once again changing to something the other teen can't decipher.

"You think that was him?" Well, no. Obviously.

"Maybe?" She crosses her arms. "I don't know- I freaked out, okay?

"Remind me to never freak you out..." Ayano hopes her hurt expression looks genuine enough. "Don't give me that look, okay? It was freaky. I just- it never even occurred to me that he could be – but what if he wasn't?"

"What if he was?" Should she do with her guest what she did with the others? It would give her Love a better alibi. Sure, Aisha will be an odd mark on the list, once she puts the plan into motion, but there was nobody else to be found on such short notice. It also has the advantage of not having to deal with that brother of hers ever again, a definite plus. "You're, not going to call the police, right?"

Aisha scoffs. "Duh? I'm not getting dragged around by the cops, and so not joining the Wards either. It's just- I'm still getting to grips with how you- butchered someone."

They both lapse into silence - a deliberate one at the Asian girl's end. People grow more receptive towards ideas the longer they're left to stew in silence, she's learned. That, and she can't quite remember if Father's sleeping pills still work after dissolving or not.

"Come on, let's go to my- to the kitchen. I'll make tea, unless you want something else?" She asks, already leading her guest through the few steps between the bathroom and kitchen.

"You got any soda?" Coke.

"No." Anyone used to the taste would notice something wrong right away.

"Tea's fine then, thanks," the parahuman girl replies. She sits down at the table while Ayano busies herself with the kettle and mugs, reaching for her own stash of tea – not caring to bother with the mess she'd have to make with Father's. She never could figure out why he enjoys his herbal stuff so much. It's all the same to her.

She casts a glance Aisha's way - it wouldn't do to to get caught drugging her drink – and notices the girl's staring.

"Yes?"

"No, uh- nothing. It's nothing." The black girl looks away, finding something very interesting to inspect on her hands. Blood, maybe – she's not yet cleaned them yet. Ayano turns back to the mugs, quickly scooping up Father's medicine bottle, and drops three pills into one of them. It shouldn't be so much as to stop her mark's heartbeat outright - Father takes two sometimes, when Mother's not looking. She probably won't finish the whole cup though...

She glances at Aisha again, before dropping in another pill.

"Sugar?" It would mask the taste further.

"Huh? Oh. Sure, uh, two spoons."

Ayano gives the mixture a lively stir to have the pills dissolve, committing to her memory that the red mug is off limits for her. Here goes; now to stall long enough for the drink to take effect.

"Tastes weird." The other teen complains once she takes a sip.

She shrugs. "It's my dad's, it's supposed to be calming? I thought it'd be good."

"I am calm- just- okay, maybe I'm not calm. I can't stop thinking how we're sitting here, like that thing back there didn't happen." They wouldn't be sitting here at all if it didn't. "That, and the power- shit. I'm not even sure what it does." Maybe it's because she's been on the receiving end, but Ayano does have an inkling.

"I wouldn't know either."

"I mean, nobody reacted when I did stuff, and I wasn't trying to use that power." So she's gathered, yes. The memories she has of their walk are rather loud. "And then I tried calling Brian, when I took my phone back, but it was like- like he couldn't hear me, thought it was some prank. I-I need to call him again-"

"You need to calm down." She firmly states, grabbing the other girl's hand as she makes to stand up. "What would you tell him anyway?"

"...yeah, I need to think about that first. But he could get me home, at least."

"You could stay the night, if you want?" She wonders if she should withdraw her hand. Touch is supposed to be comforting, but it can also make people feel uncomfortable. It doesn't make much sense, in Ayano's honest opinion. Then again, people rarely do.

There it is, that strange look again. "I- don't think I could sleep tonight."

"That's alright." She's drank half her mug already. What she thinks doesn't matter at this point.

Aisha narrows her eyes. "How do you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"How are you- how were you so calm, back then?"

"I..." Why wouldn't she be? Once she killed that man, there was no longer anything to be worried about. "I don't know. It felt-" _Normal_. "Weird. I think I was in shock? Or maybe it's your power?"

"...maybe? It'd suck if I could use it on others and not myself. " She can imagine.

Ayano thinks back to the alley, to how terrifying the thought of not seeing Taylor again was. Being around Senpai is incredible, always, but even the possibility of losing Her fills the young girl's heart with dread – something she's never had to deal with before. She would never give her Love up, but not everything that's come along with Her is quite so wonderful. Their marriage is still at least two years off, if she manages to get consent from Taylor's father. The thought of never having a chance for that to happen?

She rubs at her chest, a painful weight settling beneath it.

"Hey, Aisha."

"Hmm?"

'Thank you." The other girl blinks owlishly. "For saving me, back there," she adds, eyeing the mug between her guest's hands. Is it finally kicking in?

"Glad you appreciate that... I'm your accomplice." The girl rubs at her eyes. "In murder." It seems to be working.

"You look tired."

"I feel tired." Finally. "Think I'm gonna sleep after... after all. Just, gotta call Brian, first."

"You figured out what to say?"

"I did, it's- shit. Can't remember. Look... I'll just tell him to come." And leave her to explain why is his sister not here?

She stands up, gaze on the other teen, who seems barely aware of her surroundings by now, certainly unaware of Ayano reaching the knife lying on the counter. Should she do the deed here and then carry the body out, later? Or would it be better if she gets Aisha outside before killing her? The police could probably tell if the death occurs at the site or not, and that could be problematic. No, it's far less risky if she...

...if she...

Why is she having a tea break? She needs to clean the blood off her clothes before her parents come back from their date. It's the second time today when this happened - maybe she is coming down with something after all? She might not know of any illness that would affect her mind like that, but far be it for her to claim to be an expert on the matter.

Something to think about later. For now, she still needs to finish cleaning her clothes, and think of a good enough story behind her bruise, so that her parents, and more importantly, Taylor, will not have to worry about it.


	15. Palpitations 1-15

Ayano twirls the sticker-note between her fingers, wondering – not for the first time – why would she note down in no uncertain words that she needs poison. Granted, poison is never something not worth having, but the times when one could simply stroll into a pharmacy to buy a pound of cyanide have long passed.

Many would think it shouldn't be at all difficult to come into possession of some illegal substances in her neighborhood, and, technically, they wouldn't be wrong. She even knows precisely who she would have to speak with were she in need of those. Nobody would bat an eyelash over a teen looking for some excitement, if the word qualifies. But a teen looking for a potent poison? Somebody would be breathing down her neck the next day, at the latest.

One inconvenience piling atop another. Of course, they do tend to travel in herds.

Still, looking into avenues for acquiring poison isn't a bad idea. She's still learning how to use this whole _dark web_ thing, and truthfully, isn't sure if it's any safer than looking for questionable materials in person. Still, it's an option, if nothing else.

Not that there should be much need for such measures, soon. If everything goes right, her plan will come to fruition today. Just to be sure, both she and Senpai will have a perfect alibi – a cinema bill and security camera footage. She's not risking having Taylor in jail again. Her Love might have said it was nothing terrible, but apparently, when a girl says something like that, it might mean the exact opposite – or so the TV says. Then again, TV lies. It's rather confusing, and Father is not being helpful at all. Strange, he should know these things. He's married, after all.

Mother isn't much more helpful. She tries, that much Ayano will give her, but the choice of clothes the woman suggested for her to wear has been no help at all. The teen can't fault her mother for that, though, she's giving advice that seems to have worked on Father. Still, showing off her midriff had only made Senpai look anywhere _but_ at her. Does Taylor find her undesirable to look at?

Ayano raises up the hem of her shirt, enough to expose her stomach, and gives it a measured poke, her skin giving way without much resistance. She bites her lip, repeating the action with her stomach taut, this time, to a similar effect.

Maybe Senpai has a preference towards a more athletic sort of body? Or is it that she finds fat disgusting to look at? Taylor does keep herself on the slim side of weight - thin, even. Is that what she's looking for in a lover? Skin and bones? She can show both! It may getting colder by the day, but what is getting chilly when compared to drawing Senpai's eyes? Her wandering gaze would surely keep her warm!

Then again, what if she kept her eyes averted because she prefers a more conservative sort of dress? She herself wears clothes that don't show much skin at all, though that might be because she's feeling self-conscious about showing her body to anyone but her lover. To her! One day, anyway.  
Whatever the reason, the thought of being the first to ever appreciate Senpai's perfect body in full fills her stomach with something Ayano isn't capable of describing.

Not an unusual occurrence, lately. Not an unwelcome one, either.

The girl picks out a lavender blouse and a tank top – one just an inch short of covering her waist – and lays them out on her bed, not bothering with looking in the mirror. Appearing fashionable is one thing – all of her wardrobe is objectively decent – having a preference is something else altogether. What would Taylor's be though? She might be covering her body up for her, but does she want Ayano to do the same? Would her Love think her improper for not doing so?

She releases her lips from between her teeth, feeling the skin about to break.

"Clements." The girl pauses in writing her letter at Ayano's voice, her hollow eyes turning to her host. "Which one should I wear for a date?" Her only answer is the continued, empty stare. No skin off her nose for trying.

Hmm, tank top it is then. She needs to know for sure what her Love thinks of showing off skin, and what better way than to gauge her reaction to Ayano taking her jacket off once they enter the cinema. The cinema... now that she thinks about it, Aisha's brother was rather... well fit.

...

She needs to buy a gym pass.

A cursory glance at her captive reveals the girl is still staring at her, instead of continuing on with her writing. Of course.

"Continue your letter." Wordlessly, she does.

It's a wonder she hasn't forgotten how to breathe, really. All of her other physiological needs Ayano taught her to withhold, as a test. As long as she's physically capable, anyway, as the Asian youth learned some time ago, when she arrived at her hideout to find Clements shaking in fear of the inevitable punishment for having failed to follow her command, and yet far enough gone to not have even tried to clean up after herself to avoid it.

Ayano makes sure her guest is back to her task before she starts changing, stripping off her T-shirt and putting the slightly-too-tight top on. She then sets about to doing her hair up. Showing that one prepares to meet their Love is important. She didn't quite understand why, until Taylor showed up wearing make-up on one of their dates. It felt... she has no comparison, really, for all these wonderful feelings Senpai has awoken in her heart. Feelings she'd long ago accepted were not hers to experience.

Surreal. That's what the dark-eyed girl would call her life ever since meeting Senpai. Discovering all the things in herself that she could only read about until recently. Love, excitement, anticipation, wanting...

...anger.

A large number of those emotions remain steadily outside her ability to name. It did not take long, however, to recognize the other, less pleasant feelings than the ones Taylor evokes in her chest. Hatred, for one, she finds very disturbing – burning, scratching, howling in her gut, twisting her thoughts in the most unpleasant of ways, always festering just beneath her skin.

Killing helps.

Senpai does too. Her mere presence causes Ayano's heart to stutter, and her tongue to tie. She's gotten better, she barely even stammers any more. Still, all the bad that comes with her Love is well worth it, because at the end of the day, She is always there for her, brightening the day up for her, taking away all that is wrong.

It's only natural Ayano does the same for her.

Surely, Taylor will one day appreciate the lengths Ayano has gone to in order to remove those three whores from her life. Why, the teen will admit that using one of them to dispatch the others might have more than purely utilitarian reasons behind it. There is a sort of poetic justice to it, and the apology in the note will certainly brighten Senpai's day as well. It is, after all, a heartfelt one. Ayano may not be a specialist on feelings, but if Clements wasn't sorry for what she did, then at the very least, she was certainly sorry she did it. It's close enough in her books.

The girl in question is looking at her again. Awaiting further instructions, no doubt - just as Ayano has taught her to do after she's done with a task. Let's see, then – she picks the letter and her laptop from the desk, and sits down on her bed, opening the folder with saved parting letters she found on the web. Her eyes skim the pointers she's made regarding Clement's own, carefully comparing them to the contents of the note in her hand: the why, the guilt, the apology, the murders, the goodbyes. Yes, that should- wait, no. Her eyes hover back to the pointers on the screen. Right. She forgot about writing to the girl's parents. That's something people do, apparently.

She brings up the document with the note. What should she say to them... an apology and the reasons for which their daughter had ran away sound reasonable. An apology both for being a terrible person, and for leaving them behind. Oh, she should probably also say she loves them, right. Now, to just move the explanation for running away from the third paragraph and... done.

A short revision later, one made to ensure the part addressed to the girl's parents fits in with the rest, she places the computer in front of Clements once more, pulling on a pair of gloves before picking a sheet of paper from its ream. It wouldn't do to leave her fingerprints on something that is supposed to be of her captive's making alone.

"Rewrite it again." Silent, as always, Madison complies.

With the girl set to writing yet another note, Ayano leaves for the bathroom. A week ago, she wouldn't have dared to leave her prisoner alone unrestrained - not after she tried hanging herself when Ayano left to wash her clothes. It's a stroke of luck that the girl botched the knot. She can ill afford to spend so much time on another victim – she needs results, and she needs them now.

And results she shall have. Clements is as ready as she will ever be. All that remains to be done is to guide the girl close enough to her destination that she won't get lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. Oh! And put on make-up before that.

She has a date to go to, after all.


	16. Palpitations 1-16

A gentle touch to her arm startles Sophia out of – a nap, apparently. Dammit, she only meant to lie down for a minute, let the painful tension bleed out of her back. It's been happening way too often as of late - both the pain and those unplanned naps.

Ugh... Wait.

"Shit- sorry." She releases Emma, pinned to the ground on instinct, and stands up.

"Yeah- no, it's- it's fine," her friend grumbles, rubbing her shoulder, as she gets off the ground to join Sophia on her bed. "Should've guessed to poke you with a stick or something."

"I said I'm sorry," she growls out. What does she want, a kiss to make it better? Well, she's not getting it! "And don't you dare ever use a stick." That's what Kid Win does, the little shit. And, of course, it was her who got in trouble when she ripped it from his hands and gave him as good as she got. Unfair, but what's new?

At least Kid uses the soft end of a broom nowadays, though Sophia suspects it's more for his own safety than concern for her comfort. Where he got the idea she'd use the same end on him should it come to it, she's no clue.

"Should I pop a bag the next time?" Idiot.

"Whatever." The Ward looks at her phone to check the hour, and grimaces. "Half an hour? What took you so long?" Now, she understands cooking is by no means Emma's forte, but making a bowl of popcorn isn't that difficult, she's done it before.

The girl shrugs. "You were asleep when I came up, so I ordered a pizza for myself." she finishes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, fuck you." Emma's stupid smile only grows wider at the remark. "Do you know how hard it is to get back into proper diet after eating like a pig for my entire time-out?" Real hard, that's how. The sort of hard it used to be when she first started proper training, what with getting rid of the many small indulgences in her life. Most of them, at least. It's not that a piece would do any harm, it's the principle of things. Like running every single day, no exceptions, lest she sets up a precedent - and that way lies failure.

"Here, your popcorn."

"You suck."

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss. We haven't gotten together like this for like a month, indulge me." Indulge her ass, it's always like this. The dumb-ass gets some _bright_ idea, and then it's her who has to stick it out. Sophia sighs. It's not a big deal, just annoying. A look into the bowl confirms, at least, that Emma's done her corn the proper way.

"I'm not a sourpuss." Her friend snorts, and moves to the computer already connected to the TV, to turn on the movie – all Sophia knows is that it features gangsters and thirties. Better than what they watched the last time. Seriously, the movies with pre-parahuman time settings are the only ones worth watching nowadays, what with all the cape drama crap.

Madison loves... loved them.

A twinge of regret plucks at her chest at the girl's memory. Sure, she might not have been a predator of Sophia's kind, but there was something admirable in just how vicious Clements was in climbing the social ladder, without any regard for those in her way. Just as admirable was how she could recognize her betters, and stick with them instead of trying something stupid.

She thought for sure that she'd find her, when the girl dropped off the face of the earth. No body to be found meant that it wasn't just a case of simple mugging and/or rape and murder. Someone put in some effort. But as time went on, and she came back empty-handed from her searches - those often involving punching some two-bit ABB to a pulp - Sophia eventually accepted that all she'd find at this point, would be a body. So far, she hasn't found even that much, and she's starting to suspect it might not have been the Asian gang who got Madison. Clever of the fucker who got her, if it wasn't blind luck on their part, to target someone who got into shit with the ABB.

She wonders, had she actually found the girl, what would have Madison been like? A worthless husk of a person she once was, or a true survivor?

Doesn't matter, anymore.

"There we go," exclaims Emma as she plops down by her friend, the goddamn pizza box in her hands. She has to be doing this on purpose. Is this her way of getting back at her for all the teasing Sophia subjected her to when she was fighting her own pudge? Low blow. Makes her feel a perverse sense of pride. "Say, you started on any of the homework we got sent?"

"Nah." Oh look, a score of prisoners at the beginning of a gangster movie – gee, whatever will happen next? "I'll start something a day or two before Winslow opens up again. Take the rest off some loser. Maybe Hebert, you know, to remind her of her place. Been too long."

"True." Great, it's a Johnny Depp movie. Figures. Honestly, she can't see why Emma likes watching films with him so much. He can't do a tenth the shit she does every night. "Wouldn't take it from Hebert though, she's been dropping in quality. We should probably get some new nerd for that."

"It's about sending a message." What does she care about her grades, anyway? She's not going to college – in spite of what Mom has deluded herself into believing.

"No, I get that part. I'm just saying we could get someone else to do the stuff we hand in."

Sophia only gives a shrug for an answer, not particularly interested in the topic. She's more focused on Emma making herself comfortable beside her by pressing her shoulder into Sophia's own. An urge to shove her off clashes with the contentment in her current position. In the end, she just can't find it in herself to bother and shift away from the warmth at her side. That, and her attention swaps back to the screen, and yup. It's a prison break, starring trained guards with the aim of freaking five-year-olds with water guns. This is exactly why she doesn't pick action movies anymore. Still, it's Emma's turn, and so she'll indulge her friend's bad taste.

She's so picking something absolutely unwatchable for the next time, though.

Her mental listing of the types of movies Emma would absolutely despise is cut short when a doorbell rings downstairs.

"Oh my-" the other girl starts, and lets out a long, pained groan before hopping off the bed and pausing the movie. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Sure." She stuffs her mouth with a fistful of popcorn, watching Emma's back as she leaves the room. The pizza shouldn't be so tempting once her stomach is full. It takes some effort, but she manages to tear her eyes away from the untended box. Fucking Oni Lee and his fucking-

A too-familiar scream has Sophia shoot off the bed. The bowl shatters to pieces on the ground as the cape startles forward, before her thoughts catch up with her body and she simply phases through the floor, before bolting towards the front door of the house.

She freezes, just for a fraction of a moment, at the sight that meets her eyes - at the familiar teen hanging over the redhead in the doorway, the cold wind blowing through the open door. At the knife – plunging in and out of her best friend's chest, at the blood already pooling around the feebly struggling girl, at the cry and look of horror so stark on the Emma's face – red coating her mouth and chin, at Madison's blank, _empty_ eyes. Their owner raising her head, and starts towards Sophia, dripping knife in hand.

Sophia acts without a thought, and it's easy, pathetically easy, to avoid Clements' first, sluggish slash. The second one never comes – as the Ward smashes the bitch's skull against the wall before she her assailant can attack again. The knife lands on the ground, the hand which held it broken the next moment. A whimper of pain escapes Madison's lips, abruptly muffled when Sophia crashes the teen's head into the hard surface again, then again, and again, and once more, to then throw the bloodied girl to the ground, and kick her in the head for good measure, jolting it into the wall. And again. And again.

It's only when a small, pathetic rasp sounds out behind her, that Sophia's thoughts regain a semblance of clarity.

She's by Emma's side the very next second, her hands desperately trying to keep the blood from spilling from the fleshy mess that was once her friend's chest and stomach. Fuck, fuck! Alright, okay ( _nothing's okay!_ ). She needs to stop the bleeding, or slow it down, at least. She needs bandages, or clothes, and doctors, and blood, and- and-

She shakes her head. First, stem the bleeding, then- then everything else.

No time to look for bandages, her own shirt is too thin to work. What else could she- they're in the anteroom. Quickly as she can, she grabs her sweatshirt off the rack where she hung it, and presses it down on Emma's- too many wounds. She- she's seen men die from less. One gut wound is all it takes, sometimes. One. There are dozens, how is she-

"Don't move." She forces the other girl's wandering arms to her sides, she needs to stay put. Every small movement can tear at her from the inside, but she can still feel the slight tensing on the girl's muscles. "Don't fucking move!" This time, Emma stops her feeble struggling, simply looking at the dark skinned girl with glassy, unfocused eyes.

She needs an ambulance, right now. Not in ten fucking minutes when it'll arrive. She needs- she can't carry her there- they won't make it in time! Fuck knows if she wouldn't make it worse too, but Emma doesn't have ten minutes! Nor the other fucking ten she'd need to get to the hospital and-

-and she's wasting time! Complaining about minutes without seconds to spare. She needs to call an ambulance, but she can't let up the pressure - there's too much blood, she needs to keep it up or her friend will bleed out by the time she's done with the call.

"Help!" The words feel unfamiliar, half forgotten on her tongue. "Somebody help!"


	17. Omake: Christmas Time

**Omake** (or is it?): **Christmas Time**

A small grimace passes Taylor's lips when she notices the price tag of the scarf in her hands. This is supposed to be on sale? It certainly doesn't feel like it, in spite of what the flashy ads everywhere insist on.

The girl fishes out a somewhat tattered wallet, and quickly counts the meager funds she has left after her previous purchases. It... probably won't be enough to buy both the scarf and the dinner she had originally planned to get. Maybe she could afford both if she scaled down with the quality... but no. Ayano deserves something nice. If that means Taylor will have to work for their dinner, then that's just something she will have to do.

Mind made up, the lanky girl moves to the queue, and takes her place in the long line of customers. She never knew just how many people waited with their Christmas shopping till the very last moment - she always bought her gifts at least a week before that. First time for everything, she supposes, not that it was a deliberate choice on her part. There aren't too many shops out on the road, nor are there many people. It's strange, she thinks as she looks around, being in such a crowd after so many days spent only with her girlfriend.

Her wandering eyes snap back to a kid she'd just skimmed over. Is he staring at her? He is – wide-eyed and open-mouthed, his hand clutching his father's - fuck. Did he see her in a broadcast somewhere? Or maybe she's jumping to conclusions and he's staring at her because that's simply what children do? Taylor doesn't know, she doesn't have kids!

The girl's heart jumps up to her throat when the young boy tugs at his father's hand. It's a tense second before she realizes he's not responding, occupied by the cashier. Thank God for negligence – not that many people actually recognize her, but if the kid draws attention to her... she should go. Just leave the scarf and go. But what if the boy does, in fact, know who she is, and tells his parent? That would be even worse, people shouting in fear lets her know she needs to run, at least. Funny how that works.

She briefly contemplates trying to appear intimidating, before she abandons the idea, because who is she kidding? Instead, she brings her index finger to her lips, assuming what she hopes to be a conspiratorial expression, and prays to whatever deity would listen that it's enough.

One, at least, must be listening. The boy's face assumes a look of wonderment, before he brings a finger to his own lips – and promptly blows a raspberry as if it were his intent to attract all the attention he possibly could.

It's all Taylor can do to stare dumbly at the little kid, her body frozen up, as the little devil's father looks away from the cashier, his eyes lingering on Taylor for a short ( _too long!_ ) moment, before he reprimands the kid for making such noise.

It takes all the mental fortitude Taylor can muster not to clutch at her hammering heart.

Jesus Christ.

She buries her nose in her jacket, allowing herself a few panicked gasps for air.

"Miss?" She nearly jumps out of her skin at the cashier's voice. Has he noticed? Has he- oh. She's holding up the line.

Hands still trembling, she presents the scarf and the money to the man behind the counter, and makes every attempt to return the smile she's given without it seeming too strained. It's important to smile – Taylor's come to realize. Smiling makes it harder for people to connect the dots – she doesn't smile in her photos.

The teen doesn't immediately run out of the store after stuffing her purchase inside her present bag, it's a near thing, though. Running is just as sure to bring the security around as getting caught stealing is. Kind of like back in the primary – but with guards instead of teachers. She briefly amuses herself by imagining the uniformed men wearing skirts instead of trousers. It'd be easier to run from them, at least – that would be nice.

She checks her wallet once again after stepping out into the gallery, wondering what could she possibly get for the remaining few dollars she could pretend was better than the usual. Half a take-out? Maybe a burger. Hmm. When was the last time they had pizza? In Indiana? She knows Ayano won't complain if she brings back the usual, she never does - it only serves to make Taylor want to bring something festive all the more.

The girl appraises the crowd flowing all around her. So many people, all focused on everything but their surroundings and each other. She wonders, how many of them will return home with their wallets missing? She wonders if some will return at all. A sigh escapes her.

She'd hoped not to have to do this today, of all days.

(-)

The sky is slowly turning red by the time Taylor returns to the remote, overgrown parking lot - empty save one battered vehicle. Nothing unusual enough to spare a second glance, were it not for a lone girl pacing to and fro by the machine. Crap. How long was she out?

It's only a second once Ayano notices her before a familiar pair of arms envelops her in a tight embrace. It's comforting, safe, and all the things she's come to love about it. The teen almost feels like protesting at the all-too-abrupt end to it. She would have, were it not for the unmistakable undercurrent of worry in her love's voice.

"You're late." The girl leans back without letting go, her red nose close enough for Taylor to touch it with her own.

"I'm sorry."

"I was worried something happened." Taylor knows the feeling only too well.

"I'm sorry. I got held up looking for a present."

Ayano takes a step back, only now seeming to notice what the other teen is carrying. A look of confusion briefly crosses her features, quickly replaced by a spark of joy.

"You wanna eat now?" she continues. "It's still lukewarm... I think. It's a bit of a walk."

"Sure. I've got something for you, too. Come on." With that, Ayano grabs her hand and pulls her towards the their car.

Taylor lets her girlfriend crawl into the back first, handing her the pizza box, and sets the present bag down by the scrap lying behind the front seats as she enters the vehicle. They gutted the back seats out of the contraption at the first opportunity after acquiring it, and fitted the with a mattress, instead, to make something of a sleeping and eating space for themselves. It's not quite enough to really get comfortable, but it's still much better than spending their nights in the seats – much easier to cuddle too.

She shuts the door behind them, and slips her shoes off before crawling onto the mattress by Ayano's side, mimicking her love's cross-legged posture. She lets the shorter girl pull their sleeping bag over their laps.

"So whacha got?" she curiously pipes up.

Instead of answering, the other teen simply places a paper bag in front of Taylor. Is this from a bakery? Certainly smells like it. She peeks inside the bag, and grins upon seeing the doughnuts inside. She thought Ayano wouldn't want any, given her usual shopping.

"Awesome. Here I was, thinking we wouldn't have any sweets today."

The girl shrugs. "My mother always says it isn't proper holidays until there's something sweet on the table."

"Your mom knows what she's talking about."

"Sometimes, I guess. Say, you want to open your presents now, or after eating?"

"After. I'm kinda hungry." With that, she opens the box. Pft, lukewarm might've been a generous overestimation, now that she's looking at it. Not that it stops her from eating with an appetite she hadn't felt in a way-too-long of a time, of course. Ayano joins her after a moment, although she eats at a much slower pace, her eyes on Taylor when they're eating, as always. It took some getting used to, but she no longer feels bothered by it.

She finishes her second piece just as Ayano does her first, noting with amusement how the girl keeps fidgeting. Somebody's impatient.

"I'll eat the rest later. You?"

"I'm done." Ayano's hand immediately withdraws away from the box, and reaches toward the two small packages lying by her side, both wrapped in cheap paper. Damn. She never could could wrap anything even nearly this neatly. It's part of the reason why she started using bags, instead.

"Merry Christmas, Taylor." The girl leans forward, and places a kiss on her cheek as she hands her the presents, drawing out a beaming smile from the taller girl.

Ayano leans back, giving her an expectant look as she picks up the first of her gifts. Somebody's really impatient. She wonders what-

-Taylor's cheeks flame up the moment she unwraps her gift. A quick glance at her girlfriend's face reveals an expression too innocent to be in any way unintentional.

"You like it?"

"I-" _**Yes**_. "Yeah, I do," she squeaks out, finding her mind to be uncooperative in forming the next words. "Thanks." She puts the gift outside of her field of vision, if not out of her mind, and reaches for the second package.

Fingers somewhat unsteady, Taylor struggles with the wrapping for a moment. Her face lights up when she finally manages to reveal a glasses case underneath.

"It's great." And it is. Out of the many small conveniences she left behind, not having a case has been bothering her a lot more than it probably should. Then again, just where the hell would she find a new pair of glasses if either of them accidentally broke hers in the groggy morning hours?

She grabs the bag with her own presents, and leans towards Ayano, her girlfriend having apparently left to somewhere inside her own mind. She smirks, and plants a chaste kiss squarely on her lips, startling the other girl out of her thoughts.

"Merry Christmas," she whispers before leaning back, and enjoying the dreamy smile now blossoming on Ayano's lips. It always brings a flutter to her heart to watch her like that, to know that the girl's smile, all of her smiles, are for her and her alone.

"You know-" The Asian teen begins after drawing the first gift out of the bag, her smile having morphed into a smirk. "I won't get upset if you just tell me these things outright." Huh? Oh. Oh!

"No! No, it's not that! Um..." Fuck. She didn't even consider she'd take it like that. "It's just- I mean- I saw you using mine the other day and- thought I'd get you one?"

"Oh." The girl's smirk gives way to a look more befitting a deer caught in headlights. "I- uh... I mean, yes. I lost mine and- and I just kept forgetting to buy a new one, and... yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Are you- don't you think you should get it, though? Since I used yours?" Taylor is only mostly successful in fighting the blush threatening to overtake her face at the thought of seeing Ayano using her toothbrush again. It's only through a concentrated effort of will that she somehow forces the next words out of her mouth.

"I don't mind."

It''s not like she'll ever again be able to wash her teeth without a flush crawling up her neck, no matter what brush she uses.

"If you're sure." Taylor bites on her lip, fighting against the desire to go back on her word. Dammit, she's no business sounding so dejected over a freaking toothbrush. It's for both their benefit, Ayano's teeth and Taylor's mind! She holds true in her decision long enough for her love to take the next present in her hand. "Huh."

Huh? What _huh_? Is her present a _huh_? Shit. She knew she should have actually asked what sort of pliers would fit Ayano the best, surprise be damned.

"Um, I thought you looked like you're struggling with yours sometimes, so I thought these would help. I'm- sorry if they're-"

"No, no! They're perfect!" Ayano rushes to reassure her, eyes wide. "Better than that, for sure." She adds, pointing to the box she's keeping her tools in. "I was just thinking, we only need a plasma torch now, and we'll have everything we started out with." A gentle smile returns to her lips. "Thank you."

"Phew. I wasn't sure if these would be good. I mean, you're the one who knows how to use them."

"And you still got the right ones. Don't sell yourself short." Taylor's expression turns sheepish as she gives a shrug for an answer. It's nice of Ayano to say that. Still, Taylor's not the one keeping their car going long after it has ceased having any right to. "I mean it. Don't, alright?"

"Alright." She can try, anyway.

Ayano watches her for a moment longer before nodding, and pulling out the last item from her bag, gifting the other teen with a brilliant smile the moment she lays her eyes on it. The girl wastes no time in clumsily putting it around – half of her face, really.

"How do I look?"

"Dashing." Taylor pats Ayano's hands away before untangling the scarf to properly wrap it around her love's neck. "Better like this, though. It'll keep the cold out."

"What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't you need one, too?"

"I'm good." She zips her collar up, to illustrate her point.

"Right," the younger girl concedes. "We could still share it at night, though."

"Ahahah- well, I guess we could try." Taylor humors the other girl. She can't imagine it making sleep any more comfortable for either of them, but eh, what the hell.

"Good. Come here," Ayano says, having already shuffled closer to the center of their 'room', and now moving the ripped paper along with the unfinished food behind the front seats.

"Huh?"

"Come here, I want to try."

"Oh, okay." She could've figured. After all, when has Ayano ever passed up on an opportunity to cuddle?

Taylor, unzips her jacket, and moves closer to the other teen, choosing to let her girlfriend be the one to handle the scarf this time around. It takes a while, but eventually, they manage to get Ayano's present securely wrapped around both their necks. She lets out a yelp when the shorter girl suddenly yanks them both down, before pulling their sleeping bag over them.

"What do you think?" It feels like there's a noose, rather than a scarf, around her neck.

"Weird. It's warm, but..."

"Not really comfortable."

"Yeah."

Neither of them bothers to remove the scarf, choosing instead to lay in silence, legs tangled, enjoying each other's warmth.

"Taylor." The shorter girl eventually speaks up.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

She buries her smile in the nape of Ayano's neck.

"I love you too."

* * *

I was not originally going to post this here, but then I though: "Oh, what the hell."

I mean, it's longer than all bar 1 regular chapters, and I wouldn't want those of you who only read the story here to be left out of this.

Merry Christmas to you all!


	18. Palpitations 1-17

There aren't many people taking a walk on the beach now the cold's settled in, which suits Taylor just fine. It's a nice change of pace from having to deal with way too many people these past weeks - most of them being the police. She's kind of starting to get used to it. She'd even had the same man as the last time asking her questions yesterday. But still, hectic. Especially when compared to the time from before she met Ayano, when it was just herself and Dad, outside of school.

The girl flattens the sand out, checking it for trash, before sitting down to wait for her friend to arrive. With nothing to do, her thoughts loop back to the police knocking at her door.

At least they no longer treat her as a bomb about to go off. They're actually being... maybe not cordial, but certainly less aggressive, now that they found the culprit behind the murders of Winslow students. That one of her tormentors' admitted to bullying her.

Now that Emma is dead.

Madison, too. And Natalie, and Alice. Half of her bullies. Gone.

It's - not quite how she imagined it'd be. For all that she fantasized about Emma and the others... disappearing from her life, learning of her dream becoming a reality still came as a shock. A world without Emma, without the vicious bitch she became, and the suffering she brought into her life? It's difficult to imagine. It just- she just _was,_ since forever. Sometimes, it seemed like she would be there forever, too. It's why she wrote all those stories, to escape that feeling.

But now that it actually happened, she doesn't know what to think. It's probably for the best, all things considered. The police already knew she wished the girls the worst. Laughing at being told they're dead would be... bad. Probably. At least they asked her questions at home, this time around, just to verify parts of Madison's letter.

Which is good. Dad and Ayano were worried the last time. Her friend more so than Dad, as a matter of fact. Oh, he was furious, but not actually worried, more used to dealing with this stuff. Maybe even with some experience of his own from the days of his youth - he always did get cagey when asked about those protests. In contrast, Ayano couldn't detach herself from Taylor's side for the rest of the day, hellbent on making her arrest up to her. It was fun. Exhausting, but fun.

She's not sure what would she do without Ayano. Well, okay, that's not true. She knows exactly what she'd be doing back then without her friend – sitting and moping around at home. She'd be doing the same now, too.

Her life before she met Ayano wasn't really going anywhere, was it? Wake up, go to school, get bullied, then come home, do her homework before reading something and going to sleep. Oh, and go to the library every now and then. Rinse and repeat. Just going through the motions with her only plan being to finish the school – somehow, and that's as far as her plans ever got. Not much point in thinking beyond that, what with the trio making every effort to ruin her grades in addition to her chances at making friends.

That is, if she hadn't ended up hospitalized, or worse, after one of them came up with a fucked-up enough prank. Clearly, at least Madison had it in her.

The teen idly drags her finger through the sand, drawing lines and circles to busy her hands without biting on her nails. Because of all people, it was Madison. The same Madison she always thought the least persistent, the least aggressive. The one she could probably handle. But she killed those girls, and then kept up as if nothing had happened for weeks, before disappearing. She even kept on bullying her for a time, just to not draw attention to herself. If Madison could do all that, then what could Emma do, eventually? What about Sophia? Their pranks were getting progressively more bold, and with nobody stepping up to stop them, why wouldn't they be?

They started out harmless, for the most part. Still cruel, but at the very beginning, it wasn't so bad. Then they brought in more students onto it, then discouraged others from making friends with her – not that they really had to. Who would want to talk with the school pariah? Then, once they realized they could get away with stealing her homework and physical abuse, that the teachers don't care...

That was the point at which things got scary. And not only for Taylor, apparently. Madison addressed her in her letter. She didn't get to see the original - case evidence - but the police did give her a copy to read through and confirm. Madison seemed - said she was sorry; for being a coward and going through with everything the other two said, for coming up with her own ideas to please them. That... this, was her way of saying sorry.

Taylor doesn't like thinking about what her being vicious would be like. Doesn't like thinking about the topic at all. And yet, without fail, it resurfaces in her thoughts every time she finds herself without anything to occupy them with. She'd never have thought she'd be glad at the thought of going back to school, much less relieved. But it'll give her something to be busy over for half a day. Then it's either TV or books. Expecting Ayano to just- drop everything and go hang out with her whenever she feels like it would be selfish. She can't monopolize her time like that. It's not even that bad, it's just- she'd rather spend her time with her friend, is all.

No. It's the nights that are the problem. When she's got nothing to do but try to sleep that her mind ends up running mile a minute.

She wonders, would it be okay if she invited Ayano for a sleepover? It wouldn't be greedy of her to ask if she wanted to, would it? Dad would agree, be glad for it, probably. She hasn't done anything like this since- since Emma.

...

Goddammit. Her heart has no business aching like that, not after everything the bitch's done to her with her cronies in tow. If anything, she should be overjoyed about the situation. Buy Madison flowers and put them on her grave with an big thank-you sign!

No. Fuck- that's. No.

She's a better person than that. Not better enough to be above feeling gratitude, but enough to feel nauseous about it right after. Not a monster.

She pulls her knees close to her chest, warding off the chill the last thing on her mind.

She never retaliated. Never once. Doing so would have ended up badly for her, sure, but if it were only about that? She probably wouldn't have been able to hold it back. Nor would have her tormentors been able to stop her. It'd be enough to find out when they were hanging out at Emma's house. She's not sure so about Sophia, but she could get Madison alone on her way home, and then get into Barnes' house and kill their daughter. Maybe even after being let in by them. She could have done it. She chose not to, but nobody could stop her before she'd get her revenge on at least two of the trio before being thrown into prison.

But she's better than that. Better than them. Not a bully, not a killer, and not a monster. She wouldn't stoop to their level, wouldn't become like them. Worse than them. Hasn't. She's held out, made a new friend, and Emma finally got her due - nothing less than she deserved. Not what she deserved. What she didn't deserve.

Her growl dies in her throat, muffled by her arms and lost among the gentle crashing of waves. Fuck Emma. She won't leave her thoughts, even in death. Taylor suspects the fact would give the sick bitch no small amount of pleasure. That alone would be reason enough for the girl to put every effort into forgetting her, into moving on. But her best is not enough, curse her heart. A year of bullying, of ruining her, ruining all their memories - and still her heart can't give her a break and forget Emma was ever anything more than a worthless betrayer.

Maybe going to her funeral will let her clear her thoughts. Back with Mom, it didn't really hit her that she died until she saw the body. It just didn't feel real. Maybe if she sees Emma's casket it'll let her get over this – whatever it is. She has to talk with Emma's parents, first, since they might not want her there. And then- and then there's Dad. God, she's not looking forward to that talk. The one they had about her diary was already draining enough.

The girl buries her face in her knees.

It'd be so much easier if she could just, and only, hate her bully, or at least not feel all these other things. Emma would never feel those for-

A jolt of panic shoots through her body when a set of arms encircles her shoulders, firmly pulling her back into another body.

"H-hey." Her struggling dies down before she could properly start at the sound of the familiar voice.

Taylor grimaces, and turns her head sideways to look Ayano in the eyes.

"Please, don't jump on me like that," she says, trying to sound stern. It's a difficult thing to pull off with her lips involuntarily pulling up the moment she sees her friend's smile.

"I'm sorry," Ayano answers without letting Taylor go, not looking nor sounding very sorry at all. "You were shaking." She was? "Are you cold?" Funny she should ask that, her own cheeks are flaming red.

"A bit, but it's not-" She cuts off when Ayano shifts behind her, putting her legs on Taylor's sides. W-well. The cold's certainly not an issue, anymore. Her eyes dart away from Ayano's. "But- that's not it."

"Oh." Something pulls at Taylor's insides at the dejection in the girl's tone, and lurches when she stirs to pull away.

"No, wait! You can- can we stay like that, for a moment?" The words fall out of her mouth before she can think, the heat from her stomach now flooding her face. "It is cold. I just meant that's not it."

"Okay," her friend answers, before wrapping her hands around her senior's knees, pulling them closer to her chest. Taylor lets herself relax in the embrace, and the younger teen adjusts to make it more comfortable for them both. It's still a bit awkward, Ayano is smaller than her, but Taylor won't say anything if she won't.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I mean, yes. It's... complicated."

"...Do you want to talk about it? I'll always be here to listen, when you need me to."

"I know." She does. It's precisely why she doesn't want to abuse it. "And thank you. Just- my head's a mess. I don't know how to start."

"I-I read that externalizing helps to compose thoughts. Just try?"

That much she can do. "Alright."

There's a lull to their conversation, one Taylor spends on thinking how to begin.

"It's about Emma." She feels her friend's body stiffen as she finally breaks the silence. "And- and Madison too, I guess. I can't stop thinking about them."

"Why?" Terse. So terse.

"It... wasn't all bad. With Emma, I mean. Before."

Ayano only responds by tightening her grip around her.

"We used to do everything together. I don't even remember meeting her, we were so young. She was just - there."

"...Do you miss her?" Hard, cold hard steel.

"God, no!" She can't help laughing at the mere suggestion, the mirth in her chest weighed down by lead seconds after. "And yes. I don't know. Maybe how she was, before. She was... she used to be-" _Like you are for me._ "-different. I don't know what happened. Maybe Sophia does- she was there when I met Emma after she changed, but I doubt she'd tell if I asked."

"Does it really matter?" She can hear the scowl on Ayano's face without looking. "She was awful and doesn't deserve you thinking about her. I bet she'd be happy if she heard something terrible happened to you."

"Oh I know, believe me." Only too well. Taylor has seen her laugh at her misfortune so many times – hearing that some crazy killer got her would make her day, or her whole week. No longer because _why would she spend her time thinking about that loser_. "I told you, it's confusing."

"Yeah. I guess emotions are like that." She murmurs into Taylor's shoulder. "But aren't you happy she's gone, at least?"

"..."

"Aren't you?" She waits a beat before continuing. "I think I would be, if someone like that disappeared from my life."

"I feel... glad she can't hurt me, anymore," she eventually offers. It's true enough, and she doesn't feel guilty about being safe from her. "But vindictive, too. And I shouldn't. It'd make me the same as her."

"No it wouldn't!" She startles at Ayano's outburst. "You're nothing like her. She was a terrible person. Trash!"

"Ayano-"

"No! She was. She and her buddies hurt you for shits and giggles. And worse, she was your friend, right? You don't do that to someone you love. _You'd_ never do that to someone you love. Or am I wrong?"

"What? No! Of course I wouldn't!"

"Exactly. You're amazing. Don't compare yourself to that bitch."

It's... just a bit easier to believe it when Ayano says it. Easier not to feel rotten about calling someone dead a bitch, too. However, Emma was not always what she eventually became. She used to be friendly. Sweet, even. Not the person her younger self met after returning from the summer camp. If she could at least know why she became that way, maybe it would give her some peace. But that's impossible. The answer died along with Emma.

She'd imagined she'd become free when Emma vanished from her life, so why does this feel like anything but? Two of the trio are gone, no longer able to hurt her, yet still they shape her life. Is that because of Sophia? Taylor would be lying if she said she's not concerned about the future and her remaining tormentors. Sophia was never the worst of the bunch, however. The most physical, yes, but not the most vicious, nor the most hurtful. No. She can handle Sophia.

Had they been so successful in cowing her that she can no longer even feel justified in her disdain for them? That she can't even feel comfortable about them no longer being a part of her life? How long will they keep their hold over her? How long will she let them?

"...Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm not like them, not like Emma. I'm- she can't dictate my life anymore." She's not going to let her. It is exactly what the bitch would've wanted. She's stronger than that. She can become stronger than that. She will.

Smiling, Ayano lays her chin on Taylor's shoulder, and the older girl has to hold in a shudder when her warm breath tickles her ear.

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then."


	19. Ablation 2-1

Dean has always disliked funerals, though it was for different reasons back before he got his powers. Back then, on the few occasions his parents took him, it was either an arduous, or an emotionally crushing experience – seeing someone he hardly knew, or knew since forever, being put to rest.

Now? Now it's just draining, exhausting, to literally see just how honest people are in their grieving.

They aren't, a lot of the time. People push bad thoughts away and mute their feelings to a point they can ignore them. Even when a loved one dies, they will keep it all under a lid, only failing to suppress those emotions when confronted by something they can't deny. Like a body. Like a coffin. Normal cemetery visitors rarely feel much when coming to visit a grave.

It's only natural.

It's also sad.

Most of the people now gathering where the funeral is to take place - classmates and family friends if he's not mistaken - will stop consciously thinking about the murdered girl in the space of a month. Others will forget in a year. Only a select few, even within the family, will always remember, all of their days vacant of something they once took for granted. The parents, for certain. The woman that might be the girl's grandmother, as well.

He sweeps the entire cemetery for any potential dangers, before putting his binoculars to use to locate his charge among the crowd. Ah, there she is. Normally, he wouldn't have any problem spotting Sophia with his power alone. Lately though? Her simmering anger had all but disappeared, replaced by... not much at all. For a time, anyway, to a point when seeing the rage slowly trickling back in was almost a relief to see. He noticed long ago that her ever-present ire only recedes after she gets some action on her patrols – something he did not neglect to mention to Armsmaster. Perhaps he should have. Violence might not be the best of coping mechanisms, but it'd still be better for Sophia to take her anger out on criminals, where it would at least be productive.

It would certainly better than having her bottle it up and blow it off in her civilian life.

What a mess, should that turn out to be true. Not quite as bad as the other option, but still. He didn't get to read the letter. It was for the director's and Armsmaster's eyes only, but the team got the gist of it. If what it says is true- well. It'd mean they've failed on so many fronts... first among those being helping Sophia. The whole goal of her probation was to make her into a better person. In theory, anyway. In reality, they were all quick to give up on their teammate, with an innocent girl paying the price for it.

It would be his personal failure, as well. He didn't pick up on anything unusual when he was asked to observe Sophia during her questioning regarding the girl she supposedly tormented, back when the police found something at said girl's house. Dean isn't sure what, but apparently it was enough to assign a tail to her for a few days. Nothing must have come of it, since that was the last he heard of that. It made Sophia laugh, too, in the sort of honestly amused fashion he never really sees on her. What was it she said? _That loser? No way._ No sign of emotions usually accompanying lies - like trepidation – whatsoever.

Is it wrong of him to hope that he, along with everyone else, was fooled? If the letter pans out, then it's partially their fault those girls died. He feels like shit for that, yes, but the alternative... oh, the alternative is so much worse.

If the Clements girl was mastered, like Sophia maintains she must have been, then it would mean there is a villain capable of brainwashing someone into, at the very least, committing murder. A villain that does not care for unwritten rules, and already went after Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity while she was at her now-dead friend's house. It's an honestly terrifying idea. If they know who Shadow Stalker is, then who's to say they don't know who Gallant and the rest of the team are?

The worst part? Armsmaster said they're already pursuing a lead, and not to worry about it any more. And while it's reassuring they're so quick, how the hell is he supposed not to worry? If they have a lead, it follows that there might indeed be a master behind all this.

So yes, he would prefer it if it were just Sophia who turned out to be a problem, even if admitting so makes him feel sick to his stomach. Whichever turns out to be true, Shadow Stalker remains benched and living at the Rig for the time being, while her family is being observed 24/7. it's supposedly to let her recover from the psychological trauma. _Right._

She reacted about as well as one could expect, but unlike the Sophia Dean knows, who would fume and snap at everyone around her for days to come, she just... burned out, for the lack of better word.

At least, Piggot let her come to her friend's funeral. Dean is fairly sure she'd skip the base, if that weren't the case. Fight her way out, if need be. Dean might not have known the deceased girl, but it's clear that Sophia cared, even the others have noticed, though he suspects they don't quite understand how deeply. Concern, for others especially, is a rare color for Sophia. Rare that she feels it for herself, and rarer still for their teammates. There was a fair amount when Clements disappeared. Not much - it's still Sophia, after all - but by her standards? The girl was more important to her than all of the Wards combined.

And she still killed her. It might have been self-defense, but Dean likes to think he would control himself better than Stalker, if it had been him there. Especially if the perpetrator had been his friend. What if it had been Master influence?

Sophia doesn't seem to care. It's a good thing they're burying the girls at the opposite ends of the city. It'd be an incident just waiting to happen, otherwise. He hopes both the ceremonies will be peaceful. Victims or not, the girls' families still deserve to bury their daughters in peace.

A point to the police for keeping this under wraps until after the funerals. There's no doubt in Dean's mind the media would desecrate the proceedings if they caught wind of the case.

A light touch on his shoulder draws his eyes to the PRT officer with him and away from the still growing group of mourners.

"Check the parking lot."

The hero nods. To see the lot from his spot on the rooftop, he shifts to a crouch from lying on his stomach.. There. Three new cars: two with passengers already getting out, and the third just pulling up. Let's see: sadness, sadness, indifference, annoyance, sadness. Standard. Now, for the pair in the third car-

"The hell?"

The girl there – Dean had seen _conflicted_ before. A lot of people experience conflicting emotions on daily basis, but this... is not it. Not this mass of colors battling for dominance in her body, as if someone splashed paints together and threw in a firework while stirring. Anger, joy, fear, hatred, and disgust are just the more prominent ones - as beautiful as they are disturbing, all there together at once, mixing into something he can't accurately name.

"What is it, Gallant?" The trooper by his side speaks up.

"Someone strange." To put it lightly. "This one, the girl with the man. Fourth row, fifth car." He points at the source of his discomfort.

"Danger?" the man asks, already observing the pair through the scope of his rifle, his hand hovering over the safety.

That's a damn good question. Is she a danger? The Barnes, too, are conflicted in their feelings, their anger and their helplessness. But it's muted, tamed by their grief. There is no grief to speak of in this one. That's fine, half of the people down there aren't. But the fact there's happiness in her, of all things? What the fuck? What sort of person feels happy coming to a funeral? What sort of person that would feel happy would come to a funeral?

Aside that, however, she seems... safe. Potential attackers are - have always been, different. Cautious and cold. Fearful or panicked. Determined, too. Although it's not an emotion, he can see it easily enough - as an absence of feelings. And this girl is anything but empty.

"I don't think so. But she looks... unstable." Caused by the other girl's death? No, she'd be grieving if that were the case. Some of it is understandable. But joy? And all together? Maybe she's got a condition? No, that doesn't fit, either. He'd seen psych ward in passing, and while he's by no means an expert, those people were mostly normal. Their emotions were, that is, just- more extreme. "Keep an eye on her. I'll say the moment something changes."

"Roger. I'll let the others know."

Gallant tunes the trooper out as he passes the warning to the other two teams around the cemetery, lying down on his stomach again to return to his observations as the pair makes their way to the ceremony.

At least the man by her side - the father, Dean assumes - looks about right. There's worry, anger too, but nothing so out of the ordinary, given the occasion. Either he's completely unaware of what's happening in his daughter's head, or simply used to it. The former. Definitely the former. Only a psychopath wouldn't care about something like this, and psychopath this man is not.

Here's to not having to interrupt the funeral. The girl might be unstable, but his orders were very clear: don't go in unless absolutely necessary. Having the PRT go in without a legitimate reason would reflect badly on the entire organization, not to mention the trauma such a thing could cause to the grieving family. And honestly, Gallant would also prefer to avoid getting his backside grilled for screwing up by Piggot and Armsmaster if at all possible. The second the girl starts showing _signs_ he won't hesitate to swoop in, but not a moment sooner.

He tenses up when the pair reaches their destination, with the teen's emotions suddenly changing their color entirely to hate. A moment before he calls it in, she takes on the hue of fear, and then once more become a confusing vortex.

What was that? Wait. Sophia's different too, now. More like her usual, angry self, and she's- yeah, she's staring at the girl with a scowl on her face, and every now and then the other girl glances back, her colors flashing every time. That's... huh. They must know each other. Schoolmates? Most likely. Something to ask Sophia about later. It's not often that he sees this sort of overwhelmingly negative and instantaneous reaction, even from villains.

Perhaps it's something to pursue regarding Clement's letter. Getting a second opinion could prove useful. Supposedly, nobody came up with anything overtly negative about his teammate at her school, and... honestly, he finds that hard to believe, especially after seeing that strange girl react to her. Could it be that she's cowed the kids at her school to not speak ill of her? Much as it pains him to admit it, he can see that happening all too easily.

Come to think of it, it could prove beneficial for him to see more of other peoples' reactions to Sophia Hess. It could help in establishing just how much of Clements' letter holds true. See how people react to Sophia, perhaps speak with this supposed victim of hers... whatever her name was. They could pass it as one of the Wards PR visits. The students could certainly use it, the case aside. He'd proposed it before, after the murder, but nothing came of it as the school has been closed since. And if he finds nothing, then maybe some students, at least, will find comfort in knowing they've not been completely forgotten.

Dean makes a mental note to mention his idea to Piggot after his report.

For now, the young hero pushes the thought away, focusing on the task at hand.


	20. Ablation 2-2

If somebody were to ask her, Aisha would (hypothetically, of course) say that being a cape is not all it's cracked up to be. At least, not in her case. Her power just won't stay put, ever. It's easier to control now than in the beginning, sure, but it's about as far removed from having a third hand (as the asshats on PHO describe it) as she can imagine. Yeah, using it is easy enough. Thoughtless, even. It's the damn off switch that constantly pops back outta place. The longest she's managed to keep it off so far was something like twenty minutes - but that was in her room, and there are usually a lot more distractions to deal with than back then.

Talking, specifically can get difficult. It's not that it's that hard to start the conversation again once she realizes the other party is no longer paying attention to her, but it sure is annoying. Most people don't say a thing when they realize they suddenly forgot they were having a conversation, whenever she slips up. Bless them and their dumb pride telling them to carry on as if nothing happened.

At least she can talk with Ayano without having to go through all that. Her friend takes the fact they drop in and out of their conversations in stride. Whether it's due to her knowing about her being a parahuman, or because of her being... well, _Ayano_ , remains entirely up for question.

There are definitely perks to her situation, though. She can ride the bus free of charge, take any and all shortcuts she wants and be sure nothing bad will come of it – hell, she's probably one of the safest girls in the city right now. Moreover, she can show up to class, get her attendance marked, and then do whatever she wants for the rest of it. More often than not it means simply sleeping, because if she already shows up for classes, then there's not much point in cutting them. She can stay up at night and not get shit for it when she either sleeps in, or nods off during lessons. When she finally works up the courage to tell Brian, she'll have a solid excuse for pissing all over her marks, too. What does she need a shitty education for if she can use her power to earn her keep? Become a parahuman detective or something.

Not for the first time, Aisha wonders if there's even a point to coming to school at all. She only stuck around for so long because it was a requirement for Brian to get her custody. But really, at this point, she could move in with him and the child services would never even notice. Neither would Brian, nor their mother. Nobody would.

Would she even be able to graduate without being outed? Not likely. How is she supposed to be graded without the teachers remembering she exists? Honestly, she's only still here in absence of any better, more concrete ideas. The day she has an actual plan, she can stop coming. It will also be the day she has to tell Brian.

There's the possibility of him objecting, but screw him, the hypocrite. Aisha suspected he had powers before; her brother's nowhere near as subtle as he likes to imagine he is. What she hadn't known, was that he's also a villain. It's amazing – all the stuff people talk about when they believe to be alone, stuff like planning a robbery and-what-the-shit, Brian! One would think he'd tell her _something_ if he wants her to live at his place, but nooo, lets just leave her to figure out on her own that her big bro is a criminal. Excuse her for not rushing to tell him about her own secrets.

…

So yeah, it kinda sucks. She only received a single phone call ever since getting her power, and that was Ayano making sure she was okay during the time she managed to keep _it_ down. She almost misses having Brian bother her with his overprotectiveness. And damn it, he was right about it, in the end. Some stupid fuck killing a girl in school is bad, sure, but it just kinda - it just felt like an extension of living in Brockton Bay. Same old, same old, just another boundary torn down. Turning on the news and hearing that the suspect is- was a girl she wouldn't normally spare a second look at?

She'd walked the halls for over a year without suspecting anything, and why would she? Big, burly, bald and aggressive Aisha knows to avoid. Small, cute and chipper social butterflies aren't supposed to be the ones to be watch out for, even if they are a bitch. Maybe it's hindsight, but she could see Ayano as the killer – silent, focused and intense. Or Taylor. God knows if anybody had a reason to blow up, it'd be that girl. But if one of the popular kids could be a crazy murderer, then who couldn't?

...It doesn't matter anymore, not to her. Her power makes sure she won't be a target to anyone, nor a friend to invite out, or just- anything. She never thought about it before, but life without others to fill it can be so... boring.

At least, her power also lets her find new ways to amuse herself on her own. Like how she can claim some Nazi-wannabe fucker's lunch tray for herself without anybody being the wiser. She'd stay and watch the fit he's throwing over his food suddenly vanishing from his table, but it kind of lost its charm after the fifth time she'd done it. It's something of a challenge to navigate between the mass of students when nobody can notice her, but she's learned to read people's movement just enough to not constantly crash into them.

Now, where could Ayano have _possibly_ gone?

Unnoticed by anyone, Aisha slips out of the lunch-hall with the tray still in hands, before making her way up the stairs.

It used to be that Aisha would lose track of her classmate about the time lunch came around. It used to be this fact didn't bother her, but it also used to be that she didn't have a power that made holding conversations a chore. Thankfully, where her power screwed up, it also gave her an out. She might not spend her breaks like she used to, but she also finally managed to figure out where Ayano was wandering off to, all this time.

A little out of breath, she stops before the door she was looking for, the one at the very top of the staircase.

She has to admit, as far as school hideouts go, the rooftop is pretty damn good.

A shiver runs down her spine at the memory of finding Ayano there, alone, her face as expressionless as a doll – exactly like back in that alley. She'd noticed before, it's difficult not to, that Ayano is not a very lively, nor expressive individual, that her smiles often lack - something. But seeing her there, staring out into a void – so, so fucking creepy. Worrying, too, but creepy all the same.

She didn't ask. She's not sure she ever will, but she has her suspicions as to the why. Aisha only saw her wear that mask of a face once before then, and that was not a good moment for either of them. They... haven't really talked about it since that fateful night. It must be weighing on Ayano's mind more than she's letting on around people, and is it any wonder? Aisha didn't even hold the knife, yet still she finds herself feeling sick at times, without other things to occupy her mind but memories. She can only imagine the toll it's taking on the other girl. And as her friend (and accomplice), it's Aisha's duty to lend an ear to talk to, lest the girl went talking to someone less... reliable, instead.

She'd offer a shoulder to lean on, as well, but Ayano already has that much. One bony shoulder, certainly, but her classmate doesn't seem to mind. Aisha's willing to bet that if Ayano wasn't too chickenshit to ask, Taylor would be all-too-happy to lend other parts of her body to lean on, as well. Stupid idiots. It'd be painful to watch them if it also weren't so entertaining. They're fucking hopeless, the both of them. Ayano, at least, is aware of her – crush? Affection? Whatever. Taylor, though? Oh, God. That girl needs an intervention.

What was it that Ayano said? Try as she might to forget it, their conversation stuck in Aisha's head. She's not going to spy on her, and she's fairly certain Ayano and herself are all the people she talks to. Maybe they really should go to a pool...

The young parahuman braces herself for the cold, before pushing the door open. It's the one feature she dislikes about their hideout; snow's gonna suck. But aside from that? Nobody ever comes up here – possibly because of the padlock on the door. Ayano won't say how she got the key to it, and Aisha's just fine with using her imagination, which often involves ninjas, and knives and... Anyway, it's a good spot. As far as she's aware, beside herself, Ayano and Taylor, only the janitor ever comes up here, to clean. But that's only after school ends, and so not a concern.

Regarding the love-birds, there they are - spot on, with Ayano leaning against the precariously balanced desk her definitely-not-girlfriend is eating her lunch by. Neither notice her, obviously. They won't unless she turns her power off, or leaves the door open. As Ayano and her have found - as long as Aisha's no longer involved, people can still see the effects of her actions. That, and remember she's done them if she caps her power. She'd probably be in a load of shit by now if not for the fact everyone will forget about whatever she's done as soon as she stops hanging onto the off switch.

Speaking of.

"Hey guys!"

Taylor doesn't quite jump into the air, but it's only because of the desk restricting her movements. As for Ayano, the girl only turns around, shooting her an indecipherable look.

"Don't - do that!" Their senior wheezes out between the hiccups. "Where the hell – did you come from - anyway?"

It's an effort, but Aisha manages not to laugh as she points at the door with raised eyebrows, she must not be doing such a good job of it, based on the duo's expressions.

"Oh, alright. I was hiding over there. Wanted to get a scare out of you."

"Everything you hoped for?" Yeah, she's not fooling Ayano.

"Eh." She drops her tray on the desk to makes a so-so gesture, and grins her friend's way. "I'll get you one day." It'll be a day to remember for sure. She could, of course, make something up involving Taylor, but that's not among the acceptable sorts of dick moves in Aisha's arsenal. Too easy, as well. It'd be like telling her Brian got into a fight with Lung or – something.

"Good luck with that, then." Damn. This girl could give courses on deadpan delivery. "Although, I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump on us when we're eating. Someone could choke," Ayano quips without looking at her, handing over a water bottle to their hiccuping company.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll behave." She waves her friend's concerns off. The part about choking is true enough though, she supposes, what with Taylor being as skittish as she is. Other time's fair game, though. She can never get a reaction out of the Asian girl, so her girlfriend-what-girlfriend will have to do.

In absence of another chair, Aisha briefly contemplates hopping onto the desk. Hmm. It looks like it'd break.

"What is this thing?" She asks in morbid curiosity, pointing at Taylor's lunch box.

"Uh... chicken salad." Really? She doesn't cound convinced. "I don't- hey!" She cries indignantly when Aisha steals her fork to take a bite. Yeah... it tastes about as good as the looks would imply. What's with this look Ayano's giving her? She steals food from her all the time.

"Oh, chill out. Here, you want any?" She pushes her fries the older girl's way, pointedly ignoring Ayano's sharp glare. She won't finish them all by herself, and besides, she can take pity. Aisha's not sure how the older girl's managing to swallow one bite after another of this... _thing_ in front of her, but it can't be good for her continued health.

"I-" She hesitates. "No, thank you. I already traded, once." Traded? They're not- Oh, ooh. Heh, hehehe. Poor girl. For her sake, she hopes Ayano gets better at cooking. Long term, she could probably poison someone with this.

She shrugs. "Your loss." And it is most certainly a loss. Aisha bets she could do better on her first try. "Ayano?"

Her peer wordlessly points to a rolled up paper-bag near her bag on the ground. Looks like it's the birds who will share with her, then. They do eat potatoes, right? It'll be food for bacteria if not - still a better use for food than letting it be wasted on its initial owner.

"Sho hnywey," She speaks through a mouthful of her burger. "Me and Ayano were thinking-"

"We were?" _Shut up Ayano. This is for your own benefit!_

"-we should go upgrade your wardrobe. Get you something more, um, fitting."

"Upgrade?" The girl in question asks, warily eyeing Aisha's attire.

"Yeah, just a few things, uh, if you can afford them. I'm thinking, up to a hundred, at most. I know a few places."

"Somehow, that does not fill me with confidence." Fuck you too, Ayano. "She looks great the way she is," her friend states, flashing Taylor a sunny smile.

Holy shit. Love really does make people blind! Aisha understands buttering up – it's even working right now, judging by the pink hue rising in Taylor's cheeks - but please. Surely, there are limits.

"Thanks-" Taylor begins, and Aisha's not sure to whom it is addressed. "I'm not much for shopping or dressing up, though." Neither is Aisha, to be honest, but that is totally beside the point here! She's trying to end all of their suffering, and by God, she will find a way wherever it may lead.

"And when was the last time you did that? Maybe you'll like it now? Me and Ayano would try things on as well." _Joy_. "Everything's fun in good company, and we're definitely good company, eh? Eh?" She lightly elbows the girl in her shoulder, and gets shoved away in reaction, though not without drawing a rueful smile out of her. One down, Ayano to go."Hey, what do you say we go to a swimming pool, afterwards?"

Ayano, for her part, blanks out for a moment, before suddenly perking up.

"Sure. I love swimming." Heh.

"Um." Taylor quietly interrupts. "I-I think my swimming suit might be a bit... small."

All the better. "I'm sure Ayano will be happy to help you pick a new one." Both the girls blush at that, both of them turning away from each other. Jesus Christ, this is exactly why they need an intervention. "So, how about it?"

"I g-guess we could do that." Taylor forces out, accompanied by Ayano's nod of assent.

"It's settled then!" A thought crosses her mind, one she quickly discards as it would be counterproductive to this whole venture. At the same time, it'd be such a waste not to at least tease Ayano with it. "Hey, what do you say we get my brother to come along?"


	21. Ablation 2-3

Taylor casts a quick glance at the girl sitting a few tables away from her, before quickly returning to her task at hand. It wouldn't do to get caught, even though she knows logically even if the girl looks up, averting her eyes should be enough to stop any further interaction. This isn't Winslow, where being caught looking means- _meant_ trouble. Where simply being seen meant trouble, really. Throughout the whole of the bullying campaign, she'd kept telling herself that, at worst, it would continue until graduation, that she'd be free from the trio after.

Wishful thinking. She'd have been an absolute mess by then. Even now she keeps half-expecting the girl to catch her eyes when she looks up from the page, as her bullies have done so many times. She keeps dreading that she will scowl, or worse, smile, then get up and unhurriedly saunter to her table and then...

...Who's to know. Taylor knows what the trio, or any other girl from Winslow she drew would've done – granted, those were not the most flattering of images. It's why she never brought her hobby to school, much as it would have made it easier. They probably wouldn't have even destroyed anything, just took it straight to the principal – because God forbid a girl have a hobby. She doesn't even have to imagine the shit-storm. The last time somebody cared to take a look she was taken in for questioning. Sure, there was a murder and all, but...

Ugh.

They told her she'd get her diary back. They forgot to add the _eventually_ part. Not that it matters with four of the girls who tormented her dead. What would she do with it, anyway? At first, her journal was meant to be a way of fighting back, a record of all the things that were done to her – so detailed in the beginning, yet eventually reduced to _yesterday plus soda_ , as the bullying got so familiar as to become repetitive. And while the accounts of her bullying grew more and more sparse, fantasies took up the space left. Ranging from Miss Militia swooping in to save her, to a very elaborate tale of Sophia's truly unfortunate encounter with some Nazis in a butchery – author's own illustrations attached.

...She should have kept the whole thing separate, as she does now. No mixing up her stories with anything else – she tears the pages out nowadays. Oh, it got her an investigation alright, and her bullies were indeed punished. Taylor has to wonder if they would have faced any consequences at all were it just her diary.

Maybe it's better that she never gets it back. Any function it could have had is gone now. The police have seen it, only Sophia remains of the trio, and she's been barely paying Taylor any attention since... Madison. And whatever venting Taylor did through her art has only left her with an ashen taste in her mouth, now that those girls are truly dead.

In fact, every time she takes a pencil in hand, her bullies are the first thing her mind settles on. It's why it took her all this time to draw again – and only because she promised Ayano she wouldn't let her tormentors affect her life any longer. She... probably wouldn't have tried again had it not been for her friend, wouldn't have discovered how much she actually enjoys it when her subject matter isn't her bullies, when it's not anger that guides her hand.

The police can keep her damn journal. The only thing it's full of is bad memories.

If she's to start a new chapter in her life, it's only fitting she makes this aspect of her into something uncontaminated by her bullies. It'll be... nice, to be able to finally share it with someone. Dad hadn't even known before the police dug it out of her room, and his reaction was more or less what she had expected it'd be.

As for Ayano... she wants to draw her. What better way to reclaim a part of her life as her own than to do so by celebrating the person that has helped her to do just that. Also, _she wants to draw her_. Maybe a portrait, for starters. It'd be easy enough, her smile is the first thing she sees before her closed eyes.

...One day. She feels strange just thinking about it, even more so about asking.

She lifts her eyes to look at the girl again, and finds herself locking eyes with her model. It's just half a second before the other teen goes back to her book, but it's enough for Taylor's insides to turn ice. It's a considerable effort to simply look down to the sheet and continue her sketch instead of throwing all her things into the bag and rushing out of the library. But no, she will not bow out like she's been conditioned to. This isn't Winslow, and even if it were - she'd promised she would put that past her, and not just to herself this time. Were it just her to disappoint, well, she's done that so many times before, what's once more? Only, this time she would also fail Ayano. Her friend wouldn't think less of her, Taylor knows that, yet still the fear persists, seated just beside the desperate want to make the girl feel proud of her.

She's just about done needing a reference regardless. It's not like she's trying to draw _her,_ she's just a model. Not like with the trio, whose faces are engraved into her memory. Actually... there. Done! Now for why she came here.

Taylor opens the - textbook, apparently. Mom's old books are heavy, but those are about literature. This monster must be about as lengthy as the thickest of them. Maybe it's the pictures, it'd better be pictures after all the time she spent on tracking down a book with hand-drawn images as opposed to the 3D in _all_ the new, more easily available anatomy books. Not that useful for her needs.

Thankfully, this one seems like just the sort of aid she needed. It's not exactly easy process to copy the images like she needs them, but it still looks better than her old works do just by having a solid reference.

As she's nearing completion, the girl begins to look up at the clock every few minutes. She doesn't want to miss a bus home. It's already getting dark and her home is, admittedly, not situated in the best of neighborhoods. Looks like she'll just have to finish this at home. Hmm. She'll bring money for the printer next time. She _could_ scan and mail the desired pages, but the printer at home is... Dad usually sets whatever he needs to print before making dinner, or some other time-consuming activity. More often than not he'll still have time to watch the news before having to worry about leaving the printer unoccupied.

She snaps the encyclopedia closed with a thud, and with the trained haste of someone learned in the art of throwing all her possessions into a bag to quickly get out of class, the teen sweeps all her belongings into her bag while already standing up-

"Excu-" -to promptly crash into something with entirely too little give.

Taylor finds herself knocked back into the chair with her baggage all finding its way onto the floor. She blinks, confused for a second, before taking in the sight before her. A tall, handsome boy stands before her, looking a little thrown off by being walked into, with his bright eyes still widen. Huh, no wonder she got thrown right back – somebody's been working out.

"I'm sorry," he says, before crouching to gather her scattered possessions. "Here, let me help."

...That's different. People usually just laugh when she drops her stuff. Not Winslow. Right. No, wait!

"Oh, that's alright, no need-" she begins as she, too, drops to the floor. Too late to scoop up her drawings before him.

"There. Again, I'm sorry, I just wanted..." The boy trails off as he takes a look at the pages he's holding. "...Uh, to uh-"

Taylor tugs the pages out of his grip, before stuffing them in her backpack and turning back to him to force out a- "Yes?"

It's like watching a person reset, the way his expressions snaps back in focus again.

"Oh, right. I wanted to ask if I could use the book. The librarian told me they just have this one copy."

Ah. They do, and it's a _read-only_ to boot. A pity, but it probably costs a few of her monthly allowances, so.

"Of course." She looks away from his searching gaze. "I just- I was about to go, so- I need to return it first. You know, clear my card."

"Sure. Mind if I come with, then?" _Yes. No._

"Go ahead."

"Thank you. Say, were those your drawings?" He begins as they start making their way to the reception.

The girl shoots him a wary look. It should be... pretty obvious, she'd think, what with her pencils and pages and- everything.

"Yes. Why?"

"-Nothing, it just reminded me of a friend of mine. He's pretty into that sort of stuff."

"Really?" The question slips out before her thoughts can catch up with her.

"Yeah. We're in a- club, of sorts, and everyone gets to pick a movie every now and then. And on occasion he'll bring something... different."

The girl barks a laugh.

"I'll bet."

Different. Right. Yes, she can see how picking a movie like that would be different. She made Dad watch one such with her. Once. Must be fun having a friend who'd stick all the way through and then come back for more anyway. She wonders if Ayano will want to watch her own _specific_ movies too. She wonders if she's the kind of girl who would like someone to hold her watching such a movie...

...Anyway!

"...Got any recommendations?" She says hastily, rushing out the first words that come to her mind.

"You- ahahah!" He scratches at his neck, looking away as he laughs. "Sorry, but I actually make a conscious effort to bleach that stuff from my memory."

"Oh."

"I... could give you his profile on PHO? I think he'd like it to have someone to talk those over, actually."

Taylor wavers. Isn't this exactly the sort of stuff she wants? To reach out to people? The boy seems genuine enough, but she's seen enough superficial charm to know how it means nothing, and not enough authenticity to make it apart. Then again, it's not like she'd be really meeting him or this friend of his, so it should be safe. They'd just write, swap a few titles, and then _maybe_ they'd meet, or maybe not, if he turns out to be just another fake.

But isn't that always a risk? What if she had not let Ayano in?

"You know what? That'd actually be great."


	22. Ablation 2-4

"Taylor?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you help me out with my parahuman essay today?" Taylor casts a look at Ayano, standing off to her side and looking away, one hand clutching her arm. A picture of guilt if she ever saw any.

"The one for today?" Taylor asks, shutting her locker – clean of the insults usually scrawled on it for an entire week now.

"Yes."

"...You said you had everything done yesterday."

"I did!" the girl rushes to reassure Taylor before catching herself. "Everything I remembered about, I mean. It's just one little thing, and the teacher said I can hand it in tomorrow, anyway, so no harm done, see?"

"Oh, I don't know. I actually had something-"

"Please? I don't know anything about the capes outside the Bay," Ayano says, clasping her hands in a plea, cutting Taylor's teasing short.

"Of course I'll help." The words slip out of Taylor's mouth all on their own, and the girl only realizes it when she feels her friend's warm arms wrapping around her.

...Wow. Okay.

"C-come on, we should still catch the bus for Downtown," she says as she slips out of Ayano's hug and begins making her way to the school's entrance.

"Actually," the younger teen starts when she catches up. "I was thinking we could maybe do it at my place?"

Taylor doesn't reply immediately, taking a second to catch up with the words. She's never actually gone into Ayano's house, in spite of having been in the area a few times. It's not the best neighborhood, even compared to her home area. Dad doesn't like her hanging around there, either.

"Sure, um, I need to call my Dad, though."

"You could use mine, here." The Asian girl proposes, the phone already in her hand.

"Right, thanks." Taylor accepts the girl's cellphone and stares at the device for a moment, trying to remember how Ayano uses it.

"You flip it open."

"Ah." Taylor tries not to blush and fails rather miserably. At least she still remembers how to make a call. God, she'd burn on the spot if she had to ask about that.

The pair reach the Winslow entrance just in time for a group of girls to catch up to them, pulling the two along as they start talking to Ayano, the subject unintelligible over the noise of the courtyard and the dials.

It's a strange feeling, being a tag-along again. The fact she's no longer being bullied doesn't mean she's suddenly accepted in any of the social circles of Winslow. Still, Ayano's friends seem... tolerant of her presence, at the very least. That's more than enough for her. Out of all the people at Winslow, only one has ever helped her when she needed it most. What does she care for all the rest if they never did for her?

" _Dockworkers Association, hiring office, Daniel Hebert speaking. How can I help you?_ " Wh- oh, Right.

"Hey Dad."

" _Taylor? Hey, kid. Is something up?_ "

"Not really. Just wanted to say I'm going to help Ayano out with her homework today, if that's okay?"

" _Sure, sure. Are you going anywhere, after?''_

"Um, we're going to her house, so... we'll probably just stay there."

" _Oh. Do you need me to pick you up?_ "

"I'll call you if I do, okay? You're going home like normal, today, right?"

 _"Yes. Yeah, okay, that'll work. Stay safe, and have fun_."

"Thanks, Dad. See you later." Hmm. Should she do something before closing the phone? Normal cells need to be- nevermind, it seems the screen powers down on its own.

"So?" Ayano asks, having fallen behind the group and back to Taylor's side.

"He said it's fine. What about your parents? They won't mind?" For some reason, the thought of making a bad first impression on them fills the older girl's stomach with lead.

"They never cared when I brought friends over before, so I don't think they will," Ayano answers, tucking her phone away. "By the way, we usually have dinner in the evening. Is that fine with you? Father works late, and Mother only makes dinner for when he comes home."

"No problem. Dad comes home late, too. It's- we don't always eat together, but often enough."

The girls slip into a brief silence as their feet automatically take them on the path to the bus station they've been walking together for the past months.

"I was wondering." Taylor speaks up. "Did your mom teach you how to cook?"

"A little. Lately." Lately? Some of the things her friend brings to school Taylor never heard of, and it's not even because it's foreign. "Most of what I bring to school."

"She must know her stuff."

"I suppose. She's the stay-at-home type, or used to be, anyway."

"You mean a housewife?"

"That's the word. I mean- she was one in Japan, still is at heart, but she does work now. I think my father used to have a better job before coming here."

Again they lapse into silence, though this time it's hardly a comfortable one. Taylor never asked, and Ayano never said why the Aishis left their homeland. There's no need. The story varies from one family to the next, but they're all the same at the root.

"Is something the matter?" Taylor flinches, brought out of her thoughts by Ayano's voice. "You look..." Her friend gestures helplessly, as she sometime does when she can't find the right words for her thoughts.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"What about? Can I help?"

"No. No it's-" She sighs. Well, she brought it up already, willingly or not. "I'm sorry to hear about your father. It must've been terrible," she answers quietly.

"Not really." What? "I- I mean, I barely remember anything from before coming to the USA," Ayano continues, seeing Taylor's expression. "How the neighborhood looked, mostly. Do you remember a lot from when you were three?"

"...I guess not."

"See?" the girl says with one of her many bright smiles, and Taylor can't decide how she feels about it. She shouldn't have brought the topic up in the first place, and now it's Ayano who's comforting her. Dammit she sucks at this. "Don't worry about it. I'd say we're lucky to be here, anyway, considering the alternative." That's – not untrue, but still. "And besides, I wouldn't have met you, otherwise."

For a second, Taylor finds herself unable to look away from those earnest, charcoal eyes, all thoughts fleeing her head as if running from the heat crawling up her face.

"I-I'm f-flattered you think so highly of me."

"Of course I do! What's there not to like about you?" Taylor could write up a list if given a minute, but she appreciates the sentiment. And if a girl such as Ayano says she's worth her time, who is she to argue?

As they near the bus stop, the two girls break off from the group after a few goodbyes the other teens exchange with Ayano. Some of them even nod a farewell to Taylor. That's a first.

"See you guys! Have fun!" Taylor jumps when Aisha seemingly pops into existence before her, already hopping onto her bus with a wink sent their way.

"Bye Aisha."

It's astonishing how the boisterous girl can be so utterly invisible when she wants to. It's a talent Taylor is well acquainted with, but she'd simply never have pegged Aisha as someone capable of hiding in plain sight. It's almost like...

Her brows furrow, her mind drawing a blank. What was she thinking about... ah!

"Hey, Ayano?"

"Yes?"

"What do you want to do after Winslow? I mean, do you have any plans?"

Ayano looks her in the eyes for a moment, an answer ready on her lips, but remains silent for a moment longer, as her gaze goes back to the cars speeding by them.

"I guess not. I still have a few years to start thinking about it. What about you?"

"Hmm. I used to think about joining the PRT."

"That seems dangerous," Ayano says, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah. My Mom would never have let me even entertain the idea. Dad… I dunno."

"And the pay's not great, either."

"Well, I mean, it's better than most other uh... opportunities you get in Brockton."

"Who says you have to stay here? We could always- I'd go elsewhere if I had something to follow there." Yeah... if only she had the sort of conviction Ayano does.

"I don't think my Dad would take it well if I left. I'm not sure how he'd handle being all alone."

"...Do you think he'd force you to stay if you wanted to move?"

"No. He wants what's best for me, and the city isn't exactly that. I think he'd actually encourage me to move. It's just that- he'd do it even if it broke him."

"I don't understand...?"

Taylor gnaws on her lip, thinking over what to say. She never had to explain her thoughts to anyone before. Truthfully, she never fully explained them to herself, either.

"When my Mom died, he changed, and... it's like life left him. He tries, but sometimes it's like he's just going through the motions. Get up, go to work, come home, ask me about my day, go to sleep, rinse and repeat. And I don't mean the routine, he's always had those. I mean that he does it because he does it. I'm sorry if I'm not making much sense."

"No. I think I get it."

"You do?"

"He continues on because he has no… drive towards anything more. He tries to act like he used to, or like he's supposed to, but it comes off as- it's still different? Not enough?"

"...Yeah."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

Ayano smiles like the sun, and like the sun, it hurts Taylor to look at.

"Of course. Just thinking."

Taylor thinks a lot, too. "Can you tell me what about?"

"It's not- just someone I used to know."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It doesn't matter." The girl pauses, eyeing something over Taylor's shoulder. "That's our bus.''

Huh?

"Don't you always ride the one after mine?"

"They – there's a detour. Construction work. We'll have to walk a bit, but this one is actually faster nowadays. I think."

There's a lull to their conversation as a mass of students, most of them Asian, many in red and green, board the vehicle with the two girls. Taylor briefly considers a friendly wave to Mariko when their eyes meet, but she's not given a chance to do so as the other girl quickly turns away. Right. Not friends.

"Anyway. I don't know about the PRT anymore. I'd like to go to college first, at least."

"What major?"

"Something to get a job? I'm not sure. I'd like to study literature, but there's not much I could do after that, even outside Brockton. I'd need a scholarship, anyway."

"I'm sure you could get one."

"...Maybe. Nobody steals my assignments anymore, so who knows? Guess it depends on whether it'll last."

"Why wouldn't it? Is someone bothering you again?" Ayano stirs, an undercurrent of anger clear in her voice.

"No, it's… I'm just being pessimistic. Sorry."

"You are sorry entirely too much."

"I'm sorry." Taylor flashes her a playful grin, earning push to her shoulder in response.

"You would be if there weren't so many witnesses."

"Oh? What would you do?"

"...Things." She looks away, making Taylor wonder if the light blush on her cheeks was just her imagination or not. "Starting with tickling."

Taylor snorts, and looks out through the window at the changing scenery, more and more of it becoming recognizable as they close in on their destination. It's an area one would normally avoid if they don't live there, Asian or not. According to Ayano, there are a few tricks to living here. One is to always carry a few bucks as to have something to give to the muggers, lest they come up with another way to take their due. The second is not wearing any heeled shoes, just in case one needs to run. Staying the hell away from any groups is yet another.

Brockton Bay.

"Terrible. Actually, do you think you can kill someone with tickling? You know, get them to laugh so hard they'll asphyxiate?"

"Can't be done. You'd pass out and stop laughing."

"So much for the Killer Joke."

"What?"

"Monty Python?"

"Ah. I only watched the inquisition one."

"You've never seen the Holy Grail?"

"I- No. Should I?"

"I mean. I think you'd like it." Their taste in movies seems pretty similar. So far, anyway.

"Then that's good enough for me. I could download it and we could watch it together, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, I- no, wait. Your essay."

"We could still watch it after? It's gonna take some time to download it. My internet is... not the best."

"Maybe." Hopefully. "I gotta do Spanish and chemistry, can't afford to tank those if I'm gonna keep my grades up, again. Though, I guess I could try and get it done while you're writing."

"Then it's settled! We should stop by a store and buy some snacks. There's this hot-dog stand I usually buy from after school if you want something before dinner? It's just a dollar, I could buy you one. Or we could make something at my place if you prefer?"

Yeah, she's not going to pilfer Ayano's kitchen on her first visit. Even if the mental image of making a mess there like she used to do with Emma makes her feel a bit lighter. Still, she'll reserve that for her own house.

"Sure, I could go for one. I have a few bucks, don't worry."

"Great! Come on, it's our stop. It's just a few minutes from here."

Taylor lets herself be pulled by hand, and follows her friend out the bus, then through the decrepit streets of Ayano's neighborhood. Through all this, the Asian girl never lets go, nor does Taylor object, even when people give them strange looks, even when it feels like the heat in her face threatens to spill out of her ears.

Really, it just feels too nice to give a damn.


	23. Ablation 2-5

Taylor isn't quite sure what she expected out of Ayano's house. She'd only ever had one friend before, and Emma lived in a better neighborhood than either of the girls climbing the run-down staircase. It's a struggle to find anything flattering about the place; the paint-job looks like it had last been done before the emergence of parahumans, faded where it hasn't peeled off. The railing seems to be more for emotional support than to prevent anyone from falling down, possibly along with the rickety thing. Even some of the concrete steps are cracked, which is just - how, even?

At least it doesn't smell, and the doors they pass on their way up don't share the decrepit look – solid things, with two or three locks each. A good door is the one expense everyone is willing to make in Brockton Bay, regardless of their financial standing.

"We're here," Ayano says, appearing to want to say something more for a moment, before hesitantly letting go of Taylor's hand to fish for the keys. The older girl at once finds herself missing the warmth in her palm. Still, she supposes holding hands in the house would be a bit awkward. She used to do that with Emma when they were little, but at some point, they just stopped; whether because they talked about it or if it was just the kind of unspoken agreement that they were too big for it, the teen can't remember. Or was it because they'd noticed people in relationships did that too, and in their unlimited eight-year-old understanding of the world, decided it was gross, like kissing?

...Bad thoughts. It figures Emma would come to mind at a moment like this to tug at her heart. Taylor forces herself to stop thinking, to allow her mind to reset. This is neither the time nor place for her bully. She's about to see Ayano's home!

Taylor commits the door number - seven - to memory as her friend struggles with the locks. Three of them. There's a sound, vacuuming it sounds like, coming from the other side. Huh, it's the middle of the week. She and Dad only bother on Saturdays, though- well, they don't really have guests anymore, and between just the two of them there's little need to vacuum more than that.

By the time Ayano finally opens the door, Taylor is almost convinced she's going to need to help her, but her friend does finally manage, and yup, that's the sound of vacuuming alright. The Asian girl beckons her inside, going right back to her fight with the door once they both step over the doorstep. In the meantime, Taylor begins to undress, taking in the foyer of her best friend's house.

Cluttered is the first word that comes to mind. The layout is just as old-fashioned as the state of the building suggests, with a narrow hallway connecting the five doors cutting the house in half – just big enough to fit in a few utilities, like an open wardrobe and a shoe rack. It still manages to look more tidy and... fresh, than her own house. The smell of detergent in the air probably has something to do with the impression. When was the last time she and Dad properly cleaned the entire house instead of just taking care of the surface-level mess? Have they since Mom?

" _Okāsan! Tadaima!_ " Taylor turns to her friend at her shout, curious as to what has been said. Given how the vacuum turns off a moment later, she can hazard an educated guess.

A second later, a woman appears from one of the rooms, and for a moment, all Taylor can do is stare at someone her brain insists she's already met. Even without already knowing who it is before her, there'd be no mistaking the resemblance. Although, with proper makeup, the woman could likely pass for Ayano's older sister, rather than her mother.

"-et my mother." A fierce blush covers Taylor's cheeks at the realization she spaced out like that, during an introduction no less! Okay, keep it cool. Swallow the lead down her throat and:

"Hi!" _Fuck_. "I-it's a pleasure to meet you!" She rushes to correct herself.

A disturbingly familiar smile spreads across the woman's lips, similar enough to immediately remind Taylor of her friend, but at the same time... not. It's less... just less.

"The pleasure is all mine." At least their voices are different. Good, she'd hate to call and mistake the woman for her daughter. "I've been wondering when Ayano would bring home her Senpai." Her what? "She's told us so much about you."

"Mother!" Ayano interjects, indignant. Wrong move, now she has to know.

"Told about me?"

"Why, the first she met you, you were all she talked about for a-"

"Mother!" the girl whines. "Please. Excuse us, but we have homework to do, a lot of it, so we should probably get it started." Taylor doesn't even try containing her grin. It's no use – seeing Ayano so openly mortified simply has that sort of effect on her.

"Oh." Mrs. Aishi's gentle smile momentarily slips from her face, to return with twice the radiance when she turns to Taylor. "Of course. If you girls need anything, just ask."

"Thank you, Mrs Aishi." Both the girls awkwardly hang in place before the woman leaves earshot. "Told about me?" Taylor inquires as she turns to Ayano, holding in a laugh as she observes Ayano's flustered expression. It's strange. Normally, she doesn't like having people talk about her, it never spells anything good. Now, though? She can't wipe the grin off her face.

"Y-you know how it is. You go home, your mother asks you how's your day been, and uh- I mean, you stand out so I said - things. Like; how you seemed nice, and maybe I'd talk more with you and um- yeah! Anyway! Come on, I'll show you around."

Still smiling like an idiot, Taylor follows after the girl, curiously taking in the sight of the various knick-knacks decorating the small house. Emphasis on small. Well, maybe it's just that she's used to more space, but that's doubtful. There's enough place to fit in the furniture and still be able to move around, but no more than that. "Living room, that's my parents' room, bathroom, kitchen." Ayano rapidly lists off, pointing to the respective rooms, all of them giving Taylor an impression of a place much better cared for than her own. Ayano did say her mom is a housewife at heart, and the vacuum lying in the living room doesn't do anything to dispel that notion.

"And here, my room." The girl opens the last remaining door. "Let me just get my laptop started and we can-"

Taylor jumps when her friend slams the door with enough force to feel it in her teeth.

"Everything alright?" They both turn to find Ayano's mom peeking out from the guest room with a creased brow.

"Uh, yes mother. Just- I didn't- there's a mess. Inside. To clean up."

"A mess? I just-" she cuts off, her frown giving way to her widening eyes. "Ah. Right. In that case, I believe I should entertain our guest for a little while, no?"

"I really don't mind. I could help." Taylor supplies, provoking a most peculiar expression from Ayano, somewhere between tasting lemon and one of her usual grins.

"That's-" the younger girl begins. "Thank you, but, uh…" Oh.

Oh!

Taylor recognizes a plea for what it is, and briefly considers teasing her friend about it. What could she possibly have on the display she's embarrassed to show? No matter, she's the guest here, and if Ayano wants a moment to hide her secrets, then she's fully entitled to it.

"I won't have a guest of mine work in the house." Mrs Aishi settles the issue. "Come along, I'll make you girls some tea while Ayano fixes her room."

"I'll only be a minute." Ayano promises. "Give me your bag? No point carrying it around."

As an answer, she slips her backpack off her shoulder to hand to her friend. With a small wave, the Asian teen slips into her room, leaving Taylor to follow Mrs Aishi to the kitchen. It actually looks a little bit less cramped from the inside. Nothing like in Emma's house, certainly, or even her own - just big enough for two people to fit in without having them constantly bump into each other or the dining table set by the wall. The girl takes the chair her host motions to as the woman sets water to boil.

"Do you have any preference?" Ayano's mother asks as she sets three mugs down on the counter.

"Not really, I'm fine with what Ayano would like." And if she's not, well, at least one of them will enjoy it.

"That-" Ayano's mother pauses at the sound of something falling to the ground a wall away. She gently shakes her head when Taylor makes to stand, worried. "Oh she's fine, don't worry. We'd know if it was a bookcase that fell over, or something else dangerous. Anyway, you're alright with black tea then? Sugar?"

"N-no. Thank you." She squirms under weight of those unnervingly familiar, grey eyes. A quick sweep of the room reveals nothing that would help her break the increasingly uncomfortable silence, and still the woman keeps watching her.

"Forgive Ayano for this." _Oh thank God_. "We let her take care of her room on her own, and she doesn't have visitors all that often." That's strange. Ayano is a pretty popular girl, although Taylor supposes that would mean going out instead of having people come over. Especially considering the location. "Though she still should've remembered if she was planning to invite you."

"Oh, no. She-" Telling Ayano's mom she forgot an assignment is probably not what her friend would want. "Something just came up that she needs help with."

"Ah." The furrow in her brow eases into a smile. "In that case, thank you. It's kind of you to help her like this."

"I'm sure she'd do the same if I asked - if she were a class up. It's nothing, really."

"Humble too, I see. I was being truthful when I said Ayano talks a lot about you. All good things, of course." The words ignite something in the pit of Taylor's stomach, though what it is, the teen can't say. It's… good to know she's not the only one who often thinks about the other, even at home, or when telling her parents about her day. At times, she fears she's being weird.

"I hope I can measure up, then." She smiles up at the woman with all the confidence she doesn't have.

"Well. You do seem polite so far, so that's another check off the list."

There's enough to make a list? She can't say if the woman is speaking in jest or not. Now that she thinks about it, a lot of her conversations with Dad somehow included her friend, lately. But unlike Ayano, she's a friendless loser who just doesn't have anyone else.

Though if she were to judge by her friend's reaction earlier in the hall, there might be something to it. It looked remarkably like Taylor suspects she would look if their situations were reversed. So really, she shouldn't pry.

"Um. What else did she say about me?"

"Hmm, where to start? It's quite a broad subject, you understand." She winks, and the teen can't say if it's a good or bad kind of anticipation performing barrel rolls in her gut. "For one, she said you were pretty."

"Pretty?" Taylor will forever consider the fact she managed not to stutter an achievement. If only she could exercise that same control over the blood rushing to her face in embarrassment. Because, well, having such a thing told about her by the prettiest girl she knows is… flattering, to say the least. A lie, still, but a pleasant one nonetheless.

"Oh, yes." The woman chuckles as she fills the mugs with steaming water. "She was quite ada-"

"I'm done!" A somewhat winded Ayano body-checks the doorframe. "Again. I'm really sorry for that but - we can start now."

"Of course, here." Mrs Aishi says, already opening one of the drawers to pick a little glass plate from there. "For the bags. Now go, I'll finish vacuuming tomorrow, give you some peace and quiet."

With a thanks for their tea, the girls set off to Ayano's room, the Asian teen insisting on carrying everything for the both of them.

As she enter her friend's sanctuary, what immediately jumps at Taylor is an offbeat sense of familiarity, despite the room looking almost aggressively… bare. Did Ayano just hide everything? No, that can't be it, that'd take more time, and the fact only serves to fuel Taylor's curiosity. What did Ayano even have to hide in a place like this? Actually, maybe this emptiness is the reason why she felt like she had to. Anything at all out of place would stand out like a sore thumb. In comparison, her own room may not exactly be cluttered, but she'd have to throw out a few solid pounds of stuff to achieve the same effect. So then why does this still look so… oh. Oh, they've painted their rooms the same colors, that's where the feeling is coming from!

However, the colors are where the similarities end. There's a picture with a bird, a crane, hanging on a wall, and a small cactus on a neatly arranged desk, but that's as far as decorations go. Honestly, were it not for the bed and a bookcase filled with many colorful titles, the room would have a closer resemblance to an office rather than a living space.

A small meow draws her eyes away from appraising the moon-like landscape of her friend's room and to the grey ball of fur squarely in the middle of Ayano's smilarily grey sheets.

"You never said you had a cat. What's his name?"

"Mi. It's a she," Ayano answers, setting down their mugs on the desk.

Oh. "Can I pet her?"

"Sure."

Taylor sits at the edge of the bed, drawing its attention away from Ayano, the other girl busy booting up her laptop. The feline looks as common as they come. She used to have a cat just like Mi, many years ago. The cat still stands out from among the foggy memories of her childhood, red sprawled across the road. How many years ago was that? Seven? Eight?

"Hello there." Taylor reaches out to scratch the pet behind her ear, only remembering all the tips about letting animals make the first move when a flash of pain shoots up her hand.

Her cry immediately brings Ayano to her side, grabbing the hissing cat by the nape to throw it out the door and settle by her side a second later.

"Are you okay? Do you need band-aids? I think we have-"

"It's okay," Taylor cuts her off. "It's nothing, see?" She raises her hand to show the three red lines slowly seeping blood through.

"I'll bring a few towels, and iodine." Iodine? Who uses iodine nowadays?

"It's fine, really."

"No it's not. It could- look, just wait." The girl rushes out of the room, leaving Taylor alone for the few moments it takes her friend to run back inside, paper towels and a small, black bottle in hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd react like that, she never-"

"Ayano." She makes sure to make eye contact. "It's nothing, I got way worse in school. It doesn't even hurt. I just got startled."

"...Right. Here." The younger girl hands her some towels to wipe off the thin line of red, then sits by Taylor's side and unscrews the bottle to wet the others with iodine. Ugh, she hates the stuff. It burns worse than any other disinfectant she's ever used. Still, it'll just be a moment, and cat scratches do tend to inflame.

The girl bites on her cheek to keep her hiss in once her friend wipes the cuts with the soaked towel, suspecting it'd make Ayano overreact again. One would think she'd be used to cat scratches, having one as a pet and all. Hmm, maybe it only goes after strangers.

Ayano hands Taylor the last of the towels to dry the excess iodine off. It still leaves her skin a peculiar shade of brown.

"Do you want a bandage?"

She can't help it when a laugh escapes her.

"What, for this? Come on, 'tis but a scratch. Let's just get started."

"...Alright, let me just-" Ayano stands to get back to her laptop on the desk. "What was that movie name?"

"Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

"Okay, uh... there." Her grey eyes turn back to her with a question. "Do you mind if we work on the bed? I don't think my desk is big enough for us both."

"Uh-" Taylor glances at the vast, almost-empty desk, then back to her friend's expecting eyes. "Sure. I don't mind."

"Great!" The girl's eyes light up. "So here's what I thought to do..."

* * *

To say that it is a relief for Hizashi Aishi to come home after a hard day at work would be a lie fit for taking to court. Over the years, the man has often found himself wondering how it must feel to long for the working hours to be over, to yearn to return home to loved ones. How it would be like to feel safe among them, without stress eating away at his lifespan. To not feel a sense of foreboding as he approaches his home. To look at his family and feel love instead of distress and worry.

He used to remember. He knows this. Many years ago, before the memory of his old life began slipping away. There was a time in his life when he was carefree. Free. Though what it felt like, the man no longer has no way of knowing. Perhaps it is better this way, he often reassures himself with the thought, or maybe it's just easier. He's not sure if he could continue on with the memory of how it _should be_ still present in his head.

He certainly would've reacted differently to the news about the Cornell attack, and not only because it'd be so much easier to care for his wife's family if it were anybody else. A terrorist attack isn't something to be taken lightly; a grim reminder of the world they live in, where anyone can gain powers at any time and, more often than not, use them for wanton destruction.

It's beyond his burned-out emotions to feel bothered. He's merely curious of how Ryoba will react. He wouldn't expect her to care about just about anybody else, but on the few occasions they met she seemed quite taken with her little niece. Well, not so little now, college age is hardly _little_. Still, if her sense of empathy could be awakened by anybody outside of himself and Ayano, it'd be her.

Such horrific irony, should this monster in human skin turn out to care more than he can bring himself to.

A glorious smell assaults his nose the moment Hizashi enters his house, followed by his wife's awaiting arms and kiss. As always, he lets it happen. As always, he forces a smile onto his plastic features. As always, she either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

Should he?

"How was your day, Darling?"

"Good." As his days always are, no matter what happens throughout them. He doesn't dare speak in negatives, lest the woman decides to try her hand at _improving_ his life. His next words are mechanical, part of a routine they established many years ago. "And yours?"

"Well, the work was fine but- no matter. I have big news." An icy weight settles in Hizashi's stomach. Has she- no, she would tell him if she wanted to try for another child, wouldn't she? He has a hard time imagining her, of all people, being able to keep something like that for herself.

"Ayano brought her Senpai home."

Just as the man's insides begin to thaw, his entire body freezes, all thoughts fleeing his mind to be replaced with the still vivid memories of his own first _visit_ to Ryoba's house. It's a close thing, but the man doesn't immediately rush to his daughter's room. There's no need (he tells himself). It's different (so he tells himself). They're friends (it's all Ayano ever talks about nowadays). It's different from his own experience. Better, even if not quite like how he'd want it to be, with the fact that his child is chasing after a girl being the least troubling issue.

Simply put, he's failed his daughter.

He failed to notice Ayano hasn't gotten better at all. No, that's not quite true. She's made progress, it's just... mechanical. Not what he wanted for her at all. He'd hoped that one day, his little girl could experience life like all children do. He'd even thought himself successful with how well she adapted, how much she's changed from the silent, listless ghost of a child.

It's obvious now, as all things are in hindsight, that he never made any true progress. He sees it in the way her entire being lights up when speaking of her senpai, in the way she keeps her head in the clouds, like she never had before, in how her forever-dull eyes sparkle with life. He never noticed the absence until they appeared, and the difference between her then and now is like between heaven and earth. Some father he is. All it took to fool him was a rare smile, and rarer still, Ayano bringing a friend home. So what if she's a little withdrawn, he had thought, many people are. How could he expect her to be entirely normal with a demon for a mother? She even took up hobbies - what a change from staring at TV all day, never even paying attention to the screen.

Still. Hizashi hopes she came out better than if he had left Ayano to Ryoba's sole care. He remembers how the woman actively encouraged their little daughter to just... be. Not to live, not to experience, not to even try. Merely to exist and do the same thing to some poor soul in the future that she herself has done to him. On that front, at least, it seems his wish has been granted, though it certainly didn't feel like it when he first heard of the murders happening to Winslow students. _Again_ , he thought, _it's happening again_. He was so certain of it, and even so he couldn't find it in himself to do anything at all. Not even talk, truly, to Ayano, much less Ryoba.

The day he read the news about the culprit being found, his daughter eating her breakfast at the table with him and Her, it was the happiest he had been in... he can't even remember. Probably since before Ryoba, though the memories of that life are unreliable at best. The human mind is so much more adept at remembering the bad.

"That's wonderful," he says after a pause. What else can he say, other than what his wife expects him to? But now, there's a question of telling her about the attack. Maybe he should keep it until after their guest goes back home, as to not spoil the evening. If not for his wife, then for his daughter. Ayano and her cousin might not be the closest, but she would doubtless still worry, right?

"Isn't it? I've been wondering when she was going to bring her home. Why, I couldn't help myself when I met you." He shudders. "But our girl is just so shy." And thank god for that. Hizashi likes to think he's had his hand in preventing their daughter from outright kidnapping the other girl, as Ryoba would've no doubt done.

"Should I get them?" He tries not to sound too eager at the prospect of getting away from his wife. She doesn't take well to openly avoiding her, but it's just so rare to have someone beside Ayano in the house. It's not like he can bring anyone himself. Ryoba won't have anyone loitering in the thoughts of what's hers alone.

"In a moment. Change first, it's still a few minutes before I finish here, and they're watching a movie." A movie? Ayano doesn't _watch_ movies. She sits, or sometimes sleeps through them. He knows Ryoba is aware of the distinction, and that she wouldn't mistake one for the other.

It's not a relief when the woman lets go, not any-longer. Hizashi idly wonders if he'd feel any sort of relief were he to flee to another state, or better yet, continent, or if it'd be even worse to look over his shoulder for the rest of his days; there's no doubt in his mind Ryoba would follow, some way, some day.

A moot point. He's not ever going to do any of the things he so often thinks about. The fact Ryoba would find him anywhere he went notwithstanding, just finding the will to do something else than what he's been doing for almost all of his life seems like too colossal a task for his weary bones. He couldn't just leave his daughter, anyway. She's not guilty of her mother's sins. He can only believe she's not guilty of anything else.

Damn it all. He does believe. The murderer has been found, and it was one of the girls Ayano knew to boot! He should be thankful his little girl went unharmed, not wrestling with his distorted psyche just to call her innocent. There are other things, real things, that he should be worried about, like what's happening with his extended family. If only he also felt something other than a sense of duty to do that.

He hovers in place, uncertain if he should say anything now, or reserve it for later. Ultimately, the decision is made for him when his wife playfully slaps at his arm. "Go," She says, and that is that.

Taking the tie off doesn't loosen the constricting feeling around his neck at all. The knowledge his wife is waiting, always, feels like a noose already. He may not be marching to his death, but Hizashi thinks he knows at least a little of how the convicts of old used to feel when walking to the gallows. Then again, if he were to to be hanged at least he'd be done with it.

The man changes as efficiently as he can, earning an offended look from Mi when he shoos the cat from atop the dresser, all the while struggling to keep his mind off his memories attached to the bedroom. Frankly, he'd rather sleep on the cold kitchen tiles than here. It'd be much easier to find rest there, doubly so without her presence hanging onto his back. Not that there's a chance of that happening. Ryoba only sleeps when he does. That, and she could serve as a definition for light sleeper. The woman would sooner join him on the ground than spend the night alone, to say nothing when she feels in the mood. His pills are the only reason he can ever rest anymore.

Once done, Hizashi directs his steps to the bathroom. Not out of any real need, other than to delay having to spend time with Ryoba. If he can't dally on changing clothes, he can at least spend a few minutes alone in the relative safety of the restroom relative being the key word here. He can't take too long, lest She comes to check up on him.

With a sigh, the man splashes some water on his face to wash at least some of the weariness of the day away. His reflection tells the story of the futility of it. Nothing ever truly helps when Hizashi knows what awaits around the corner. Even going to work has lost its luster after so many years. After all, at the end of the day, he still has to come back to Her.

He sits on the edge of the tub, with his eyes stuck on the closed door. There's a lock on it, and though he often fantasizes on using it, on changing these few minutes of respite into hours, perhaps even days, he knows he would never dare to try. He would have to come out eventually, and face the consequences of his defiance. It's still a nice thought, if naive. As if Ryoba would leave him alone for however long it took her before deciding to break the lock.

Eventually, the man leaves his hiding spot to present himself to his wife, as she expects of him. He could, technically, retreat to the living room, but it would leave Ryoba either more clingy once she's done with the dinner, or worse, make her suspicious, or even outright angry with him. There's no way for him to relax with that knowledge in mind.

For all the sunshine in her smile, he can only feel the cold running down his spine when the woman sees him and nods appreciatively. Hizashi is fairly sure she doesn't actually care beyond him not standing out, in either a good or bad way, and even then only for the sake of the ever-important appearances. After all, the less heads he turns, the better.

"Please tell the girls the dinner is just about ready. And Hizashi..." Her look turns pointed. "Be nice."

"Of course." He agrees immediately, hoping to dispel whatever ire still lingers on Ryoba's mind after their… argument isn't really the word he would use. It'd imply there was ever a possibility of a different outcome. Strange how she's so supportive of Ayano's choice, seeing as she'd always wanted grandchildren. Despite all her failings, she's also always wanted their daughter to be safe. Legend's coming-out might've changed things, but this is Brockton Bay, and a relationship like that will still draw all sorts of negative attention.

Seconds later, Hizashi finds himself before Ayano's room. On principle, he barely ever steps inside. It's unnerving how bare it is. He'd have decorated it himself, but Ryoba insists their daughter should have a space for herself to do whatever she wants with it, that being nothing at all, with the notable exception of Ayano asking for a fresh coat of paint and a shrine some month back.

He knocks.

" _Come in._ " ...It will never stop sounding strange to hear his daughter speak English in house.

The sight that presents itself to his eyes is startling, and it's only thanks to his long years of enforced composure that he remains rooted in place rather than gaping at the sight that greets him; that of two girls lounging on a bed with a bag of snacks between them and a laptop on his daughter's knees. That in itself wouldn't be so strange, Ayano doesn't bring friends over often, but it's not _that_ rare. What makes it suddenly hard to catch a breath is her soft, dare he say it, content expression. One he had never seen on her before.

All it serves do is make him weary. Curse Ryoba.

" _Father._ " Ayano sits up at the sight of him. " _We didn't hear you come home, I'm sorry_." Truthfully, he doesn't mind. As wary as he is, the fact his daughter became so absorbed in... anything really, that she failed to realize he came back should be cause for celebration. Normally, she'd only miss him when taking a nap. A routine he had mistaken for normalcy.

"It's al-" he catches himself. " _It's alright. I see you brought a friend_."

" _I have._ " She sets her laptop aside to stand up, her… friend (or is that girlfriend?) following in her footsteps. " _Meet Taylor_."

" _Good evening Mr. Aishi._ " The girl slightly bows her head while speaking.

" _And good evening to you, too. Ayano says a lot of good things about you._ "

The girl casts a quick look at his daughter - a look neither fearful nor nervous, rather that of… embarrassment? There are no bruises that he can see on her, although given what the media dug up about the Winslow murders and their cause, that wouldn't be conclusive at all. It takes more than a new headmaster for such things to change. Poor girl.

" _So I hear,"_ she says with a jab clear in her tone. Hmm. Now that she stands in front of him, he must admit to having imagined she'd look… different, from the way Ayano described her. But that, at least, is apparently normal - to see one's crush in better light than anybody else would. He wouldn't know about it, personally. Ryoba's beauty fills him with revulsion before anything else. Her actions made sure of that.

" _Well. Dinner is about to be served, so you girls get ready._ "

Ayano starts on her way to the kitchen, no doubt to help her mother set the table as she always does, before suddenly stopping to cast a look at her friend, and then at her father. In that short moment, Hizashi could swear her eyes gain the same unmistakable edge of command that her mother's sometimes do, setting his heart to seize with fear. It's over almost as soon as it appears, leaving the man unsure if it's just his nerves acting up. It wouldn't be the first time something set him off for no good reason, and Ayano does look much alike Ryoba, more so with each passing year. Too much for comfort, their eyes especially. Yes. It must be just his brain playing tricks on him. She's not her mother. Not a murderer.

" _Can we finish the movie first, please? It's just ten more minutes._ " It almost hurts to hear the simple question, how different it sounds from the few other times he can remember her ask for something. So genuine. When did she last say please and mean it? Did she ever?

" _Of course. I'll go help with the dishes_ ," he announces all the same. His daughter is a host, after all, it wouldn't do to have her leave Taylor alone if she doesn't have to.

Still, he lingers at the door, a hundred questions in his mind, and no way to voice them. Both the girls are setting back down on the bed and huddling back together to watch their movie. Again it strikes him how different, his daughter looks. Yes, she's done this before with other girls, but she had never looked so at ease with it. So natural. And he never noticed. Could he have? There's no frame of reference to draw upon, and barely any of his own memories from his teenage years. He mostly stuck with boys back then, regardless, and that was back in Japan to boot.

The girl - Taylor, catches him looking, and gives him a smile, awkward and unsure, but a smile nonetheless. Not a silent plea for help, no trace of strain or fear from being so close to her captor. No sign she is here for any other reason than her own, free will.

Normal.

Nobody ever saw his own situation as anything but normal, either.

The thought makes him restless just as much as Ryoba's presence in the short time he helps his wife with setting the table. He's already proven to be a worthless observer with Ayano. Would he notice anything if there truly is something to see, or would his failure be twofold, both to his daughter, and an innocent girl forced into a sharing the rest of her miserable life with-

No! No. Ayano's not Ryoba. He knows that, he has to believe that. There's nothing that would suggest otherwise.

Neither was there when his own jailor killed that poor girl, so many years ago.

Wonderful. He's taking a lack of evidence as evidence now? Besides, another girl was responsible here, it's no secret! If anything, despite her… quirks, his daughter has proven a much better person than everybody else in that school. She showed kindness when nobody else had, she wouldn't just make a turn like that.

 _She wouldn't need to._

God. Is this the extent to which he's been twisted by his demon of a wife? He's known for a long time the woman had broken him, but until recently he was certain, _certain_ , that he managed to raise their child to be a better person - his own fault for blinding himself to his daughter's plight. Still, different as Ayano may be, she's done nothing to deserve his suspicion, nothing but act like he always wished she had acted all her life. He can't judge her for that.

He can't stop himself, either.

"Something on your mind, Love?"

"Just thinking that-" He stops himself to rephrase, just in case. "-how Ayano has changed, lately."

"She has, hasn't she?" A dreamy expression, one rarely shown outside of her… episodes, crosses her features. "I always knew she would one day. I told you, it was just a matter of meeting the right person."

"...I suppose you were right," he concedes after a pause. There's no use pretending otherwise, much as he would like to deny the woman to be right in anything.

"I always am, you shouldn't forget it." The woman sets the last glass on the table, before sitting by his side and leaning into him, letting out a content sigh. A chill runs through Hizashi's spine at the deceptively warm words. As if he could ever forget. His attempts to help their little girl were a concession on Ryoba's part. An empty one, he sees that now. She knew. She always did. Would she have let him try, were that not the case? She was vocal enough about not caring that Ayano's senpai isn't a boy.

The realization tugs at the corners of his lips. In a way, it's almost amusing - his failure. Had he not learned long ago there is no standing against Ryoba?

It's a welcome distraction from his thoughts when the girls finally join them. Their presence distracts Ryoba as well, and for that Hizashi is thankful. It makes sitting next to her less of a fight against himself, and more a discomfort. At least she's not staring at him eating. It's so much easier to swallow.

Indeed, the whole atmosphere around the table feels much lighter than what he's used to. On any other day, it'd be a rare occurrence for Ayano to speak unless spoken to, now though? Between her and Taylor, it's his daughter who's letting her meal go cold, what with her mouth otherwise occupied - talking about everything and nothing: school, TV, books, the capes and the assignment the girls were working on. It's easily the most the man has ever heard Ayano speak about topics other than the girl by her side. For her part, Taylor seems overwhelmed at the attention from both his wife and daughter, but, at least so far as Hizashi can say, it's nothing more than simple nervousness. She doesn't tense up at every brushed shoulder, at every call for attention from Ayano. Just an ordinary case of nerves. In a way, it's almost reassuring to see, almost. Not enough, never quite enough.

He doesn't say a word through it all, opting instead to observe in fear of bursting Ryoba out of her ever-so-rare bubble. That, and to study his daughter's crush. He wants to believe he sees nothing of himself in her simply because there's nothing to be seen. No fear. No desire to flee. That the nervousness in her demeanour is natural for sitting at the table with her friend's parents. That the glances she sometimes sends his way are not her way of asking for help.

He wishes he could answer those looks. That he could hold her eyes for longer than the moment he meets them. That he could begin to think of a way to ask her if everything is alright. If his daughter is alright.

Wishful thinking all of it. If he ever could do something, he would've long ago. All that is left for him is to nod along and smile. And pretend, always pretend, that nothing is wrong. If not for his own sake (certainly not Ryoba's), then at least for Ayano's. He has to believe her. In her.

What else is there for him?


	24. Ablation 2-6

Among the many novel experiences Ayano has become acquainted with since meeting Senpai, restlessness is one she could definitely do without. Unfortunately, it's also a feeling the girl has become intimately familiar with during the long hours of being trapped in class. There used to be a time she could spend her whole day doing nothing without ever being bothered by anything at all. It was... fine, in that she simply didn't care. Not better! Not by any measure! She'd never give up any of the things her Love has brought into her life no matter what, but not having to feel this while she's burning time between the too-short moments with Senpai would certainly improve her days.

A phone would help a lot, she thinks. Taylor having one, that is. Right now, their time together is unnaturally limited by the physical constraints of the world, such as distance, walls, and sleep. While her Love does have a phone at her house, it's a woefully inadequate solution to the issue at hand. A lot of Ayano's peers text in class all the time and she'd frankly like to join them in the activity with Taylor. Not being able to contact Senpai, always, is an issue, and one she will eventually have to resolve. It's a struggle to remain in her seat knowing Taylor is but a minute's distance away, even when she knows that there's nothing she can do to shorten it without drawing undue attention.

Her inquires into moving up a class have been disappointing. She could do it, of course, if she put her mind to it. Granted, she's been having difficulties focusing on her studies lately, but she's sure she could do it given sufficient motivation, and motivated she is. No, the problem lies with the fact there would be no guarantee of her and Taylor ending up in the same classes, and given she'd have to spend more time away from Senpai to study, the solution is less than ideal. The idea of burning Winslow down so that they could spend as much time together as they did when the school had been closed had surfaced in her mind, but then they might be reassigned to different schools altogether. Unacceptable.

The situation might not perfect, but it's not terrible either. They spend virtually all their free time together already. It's still less than Ayano would like, but, as she's come to learn, the downside of being able to enjoy things is that not doing them is... negative. Frustrating, she thinks is the word. There are many responsibilities she has to juggle, the worst of all being people. She used not to care when she was invited by other girls to hang out, but now that she's found the one person she wants to spend every waking and sleeping moment of her life with, all the sleepovers, parties, and meet-ups feel like wasted time. It's not, she knows that. Being popular among her peers has proven useful time and again, with her own rumors finding traction as easily as throwing them to the wind and extracting information proving not much more difficult. Not to mention exchanging favors like she did with Yu and by extension her brother when she needed someone lacking in popularity to be warned away.

It's still aggravating, having to do all the things she doesn't care for.

It's a good thing Taylor doesn't spend much time outside home without her, with only the occasional walk or visit to the city library on her own. Which is fine. It might be disappointing whenever she goes Senpai Watching, and find her Love not in her house, but it's not a complete waste. Senpai's father usually returns home late, which gives Ayano ample opportunity to explore and familiarize herself with the building in its entirety, as well as to acquire a few easily overlooked momentos. Tragically, Senpai's clothes are only fit for her perfect body, though apparently exercise may help Ayano with that, so there's hope yet. As is, she's had to settle for smaller things.

In the end, they're all mere substitutes for the real deal.

The teen lays her chin down on her desk to hide the uncontrollable grimace behind her arms.

There just aren't enough hours in the day. Peers, school, chores, killing, sleep... she's finally gotten a gym pass too, but working out steals even more precious hours away from her and leaves her drained to the point she can no longer skip on her sleep without severe side-effects. Moving in with Senpai would resolve the issue (as it would many others), but while she wouldn't mind living together before their wedding, she doesn't intend to share with her Love's father, and it'll still be some time before Taylor can live on her own. Theoretically, given that Taylor is the sole inheritor, they could live together even without marriage as soon as the next year if Ayano managed to convince her parents to not make an issue of it. That's the theory. It's not a given that the court would be willing to emancipate her Love instead of sending her off to an orphanage for the remaining two years. Ayano has no doubt Taylor could support herself if she found a job- she's such a resolute girl - and she would help too, but that's a big if. The unemployment in Brockton Bay isn't due to the laziness of its people, so they'd be taking a chance, and Ayano isn't leaving her future with Senpai up to chance.

Regardless, the gym is a necessity. Her careful (and not-so-careful) probing has led her to believe Taylor has a preference towards a certain muscle tone. However, the training also serves a secondary purpose. The girls she's dealt with so far were easy enough to overpower. They struggled, of course, once she came after them (the first one even managed to scratch her cheek) but her having a knife, and them not, the confrontations were quite one-sided. She didn't expect the man from that alley to pose much more of a problem if she stabbed him first, but there she was, on the ground and with him above her. Given that this is Brockton Bay, the situation could well repeat itself, and she'd rather not be saved by her opponent just keeling over all of a sudden.

Just as important is the fact Hess is simply stronger than her. The last of those whores has already proven she won't go down as easily as Ayano had expected. Granted, the girl's not sure what exactly went wrong, given how the bitch has refused to relay that information to any of her remaining friends- no. Remaining associates. Ayano doubts the people in question fit the definition of friends. It's a pleasant thought, calming, that at least one of the trio is going through at least a portion of what Senpai has suffered at their hands. Not enough. Never enough. But it'll have to do for now.

Having another student die so soon (one previously attacked, no less) would bring more attention than Ayano feels confident is safe. Hess had gone quiet ever since Clements dispatched her other tramp of a friend, and barely interacts with Taylor at all, which is good, if unexpected. The teen had thought she had the scum figured out, that she would become even more vicious after she set her plan in motion, which could've easily been exploited. Oh, Hess had been snappy - violently so - but it'd been reactionary, an improvement of character from an objective standpoint.

It won't do at all, for what Ayano had planned.

As luck would have it, Senpai had not been the only one to suffer at the hands of the trio. Someone else snapping wouldn't be too problematic to arrange, to believe, to make different enough for the police to not dig too deep. The media would lap it up, she can imagine the headlines all too easily: A Vicious Bullying Campaign Causes Another Tragedy. Problem is, while she's still her snappy, aggressive, unpleasant self, Hess no longer actively seeks out victims to torment, and the more time passes, the less believable it'd become. Worse yet, she isn't staying at her home lately. Specifically, she doesn't leave her house to go to school in the mornings (her family hasn't moved that she can tell, her mother still lives there, as do her siblings), and has been taking a different bus back. Where to, Ayano can't say. No matter her attempts to follow, the worm vanishes soon after getting off the vehicle.

Ayano should've made a better effort, a better plan, to get them all in one fell swoop. Procuring a gun can't be that much more difficult than all the effort she went to, anyway. Whatever happened in Barnes' household, she would like to see the whore dodge a literal bullet.

The next attempt will have to look like completely random chance, somewhere out in the streets and the deed done in an appropriate fashion. A firearm could actually be quite useful there. Ayano very much doubts Hess wears a bullet-proof vest beneath her clothes, and it'd make it easier to believe it really was a gang behind the killing this time. Even so, people might still get suspicious, given it'd be yet another Winslow student meeting her violent end. An accident would do, if she knew how to arrange one. Suicide would unquestionably be the best. From what she'd read, the older girl's reclusive behavior would help in making it more believable, but here again comes up the issue of her whereabouts. Staging her death at the right moment is crucial. Clements was easy enough to acquire, she never made her schedule a secret in the least, and even cleared it when told to.

For now, all she can do is continue to retread her steps not to miss it when the bitch finally slips up. That, and make the most of the time she can spend with Senpai. She'd briefly contemplated the idea of having Taylor join her in the gym, but it was a brief consideration indeed. She's not about to bring her Love to a place full of men like... like that one. Only these ones are bigger, with many sporting scars, clearly from stab wounds, showcased for the whole world to see. It's an obvious intimidation tactic; one that Ayano has to admit has made her reluctant to risk confrontation with them. If their bragging is to be believed, said scars were inflicted by larger and stronger opponents than herself. They're probably exaggerating when they recount how they then proceeded to fight off the attacker, his four buddies, and the cape with them, but regardless of the truth, they did survive a stabbing.

A nudge in her back draws her attention to Kristie, the girl leaning in without bothering to hide her lack of attention for the lesson, keeping her voice low enough to be just below speaking level. It's fine. Mr. Jacobson doesn't really try to hide his own disinterest either.

"We're gonna go hit Broadwalk after the class. Wanna skip the hero-meet and come with us?" Ah. Skipping. She used to do that sometimes, if blending in so necessitated.

"I'm actually curious. I've never been to one of these before." Neither has Taylor, and her Love seemed lively at the prospect of seeing heroes live. Now, Senpai is beautiful any moment of the day, but she's positively radiant when happy. Ayano can never look enough.

"Boring, I bet. Just like with police shows, they'll talk some bullshit and leave, come on."

"Look, I can't anyway. My mom's supposed to pick me up after. I'd have to come back here in an hour and that's… ugh."

"Okay, fine. Text me if they check attendance, yeah?"

"Sure."

It's not long before the bell rings, yet still every minute crawls for the gray-eyed teen. There are a few subjects that require an extent of focus from the girl, but Jacobson's decidedly not one of them.

"Alright, class!" the man shouts over the bustle of the packing students. "Remember about your presentations for the next week, and let's all head for the gymnasium!"

Ayano's among the first to leave the class, and one of the few heading straight for the planned event to outpace her classmates. She and Taylor are meant to meet at the entrance, and having not planned anything for today-

"Yo, Ayano!" She doesn't jump, nor stop, or have much of any other reaction to the hand jovially slapping her back.

"Yes?"

"I'm not staying for this shit. You wanna pick up Taylor and go somewhere else?" Yes. She does. Not with Aisha there, mind. But she'd indeed much rather skip the whole thing and head straight to Taylor's house, as she and her Love have planned. However, since her Beloved wishes to stay and see the heroes, stay they shall.

"Taylor wants to stay."

"Ah. Well. Guess I'll be on my lonesome, then."

"You could tag along with Kristie, she's going to the Broadwalk with a few others."

"Y'know, maybe I will. See ya!"

Ayano draws a blank. What was she... Ah. The notes she'd found hidden in her room, with writing distinctly her own, say it's nothing to worry about. They also say precisely how, when, and what to do with the rather powerful drugs she put right next to said instructions. Supposedly, she'll know what to do should the time come that it becomes a worry. It's confusing; she remembers writing the notes, but she doesn't remember writing the directions therein down. The why of it keeps slipping between her fingers.

Unimportant. She has Senpai to meet up with.

She finds Senpai soon after, standing by the wall a short distance away from the gym's entrance. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she's looking around like a lost puppy, only infinitely more adorable, to the point the Asian girl can't help but to stop in her tracks to admire Her from afar. Oh, she loves watching Taylor from up close, but there's just something about catching her au natural, unaware of being watched. Something, that if Ayano had to settle on a name for, the teen would call pure. Purer than usual, that is. It's a bit like what watching nature is supposed to be like, or so she hears, in how it should be done with the animals oblivious to the human presence. It's why Senpai Watching is the close third on her list of the Things She Enjoys, well below spending time with Taylor, and right behind talking with Her over the phone. It's amazing how she always manages to look so striking – though hardly unexpected. Senpai is such an amazing person it should come as no surprise she always looks her best. The way her wavy hair frames her pale image, the way her glasses compliment her eyes, or rather, how her eyes compliment the frames! Stunning, even if accurate, is too small a word to describe Her! Too little!

Yes, the very sight of Her knocks the air out of Ayano's lungs. Taylor is radiant, more so than the sun - a fire that sets her blood aflame like nothing else could. Taylor knocks her heart out of balance and gives it a new rhythm, like a drummer with her instrument. Taylor draws her entire attention like nothing else in her life and refuses to let go. Taylor is magnetic, and Ayano is all too willing to let herself be drawn to her, never to be pried away. She's the greatest miracle that could've been. She is... she is, and better than all the world.

Taylor is hers, and hers only. Taylor's eyes move from one person to the next, disregarding all she sees for not being Ayano. It does things to the teen she never hoped, couldn't hope, she would feel, turning her insides upon themselves in the ways the lovestruck girl lacks the words for.

None of it compares to the way Her eyes light up the moment they find Ayano's own, and it's not just her eyes. Taylor's whole being comes alive in that moment. It's not much; the way her posture shifts, the way she suddenly looks more awake, as if she found one thing of interest in the sea of nothingness. The Asian teen knows the feeling all to well. It's subtle, and it took time before she started recognizing it, but once she has... oh.

Oh, it aches to watch.

There is a void in her chest, pressed upon from all sides. The fire in her veins is now pooling into her stomach, and if her heart was a drum before, with just one look, it's become a worked anvil, every single beat almost painful. Sometimes it is, but it's a good kind of pain, as all the things Senpai has gifted her with are! With one look, it's hard to breathe, and wonderful not to. Ayano's lips shift of their own accord, pulling into a smile reserved only for her Love. They're wonderful, all those feelings. She could die like this. She wants to die like this, basking in all the things she's never had, with her beloved pressed against her without space for skin between them, breathing in the air from her lungs and the smell of her hair. Yes. If her time with Senpai were to be to cut short in this life, that's how she wants it to end, with Her in her arms.

When Ayano moves again, she very deliberately doesn't go in for the hug she'd like to give. They've done that already today, twice, as a matter of fact, and though she'd love to have her days pass by with Taylor in her arms, just like with many other things, it's not always a socially acceptable form of expressing affection, even for couples. Ayano doesn't understand why it's only proper form during the first meeting of the day. Yes, they've seen each other already. So what? How is wanting to embrace anyone she holds affection for any more strange if she's already done it today than if it's been done yesterday?

"Do you want to go in already, or wait for your friends?" Taylor asks her.

"No." She pushes through the stutter trapped in her throat. It's a point of pride for her, that she rarely stutters in Her presence anymore. "Let's just go and find a good spot." Preferably one closer to the front, as that is where most of her acquaintances won't want to sit, being too close to the teachers to be able to talk freely. "There?" She points to the wall, not too far from the elevated stage.

"Maybe a bit closer to the center? There are still chairs left." Yes. That's the problem. Sitting in chairs means having space for oneself, as opposed to the students who always end up being squished together on the floor. The position on the ground also has the added benefit of not being visible from everywhere in the hall.

Unsure how to voice her complaint, she settles for casting her Love a pleading expression.

"Oh, okay," Taylor says with a roll of her eyes, making her way to their chosen spot.

Ayano makes sure to maneuver to a small space still left between the students, so that when she sits down against the wall, Taylor has no choice but to squeeze herself into the only space left-

"Uh, can I?"

"S-sure."

-Ayano's waiting embrace.

It takes a moment for them to settle, and the younger girl can't quite find the comparison for the myriad of feelings that having Senpai lightly pressed against her chest evokes. It sends a shiver down her spine, with goosebumps breaking out all over her body. Her arms tingle, and she tentatively loops them around Taylor's stomach, who stiffens for a moment, before relaxing into the hug. Much better than any chair, Ayano has no doubt. Additionally, she's read physical contact is supposed to reinforce connections between people. Something to do with physiology, chemistry, and pack bonding. She's also read kissing serves a similar purpose in a decidedly romantic fashion, with saliva being the catalyst. She's been unsuccessful in acquiring Senpai's so far, only able to get her hands on leftovers at best. While finishing Taylor's food or drinking from her bottle is ecstatic in its own right, she so longs to taste Her without food getting in the way. If only Taylor didn't wash her toothbrush...

She forces the thought away. Those are the kind of ideas for when she's alone. The time will come when she will be able to kiss her Love whenever she wants, when nothing in the world will separate them, but that day is not today. Today she will content herself with the warmth in her arms, and the delightful shade of red rising up Taylor's neck. Why, there's likely some in her own cheeks as well - they feel as if she'd spent an hour in the frost.

Patience.

Rushing things may bring the exact opposite effect to what Ayano has painstakingly built towards. Not necessarily, as a voice in the back of her head keeps insisting, but it's a chance, isn't it? That she could push Senpai away. She's not about to leave their future together up to chance. She can deal with urges. She has and she will. All she needs is patience. She already has perspective. Not so long ago she had nothing at all in this world. A home, her parents, her friends; if one could call them that, and none of it important in any meaningful way beyond helping her to continue on with her existence. Having a home is... useful, objectively speaking, as is having parents to pay for things, drive her around, sign legal documents and eventually help her strike out on her own. It makes being socially included a much easier task as well, and that, in turn, makes everything else less difficult. Making friends in school stopped other children from bullying her (although that was always more of a concern to Father than it was to her – she didn't really care). Networking in adulthood is even more important: finding a job, getting a promotion. All easier. All meaningless. A warm, soft bed is as alluring as the cold, hard floor that leaves cramps in her neck. Spending the day out, playing, gossiping, doing – all as appealing as staring at the wall of her bedroom all day. No anticipation. No want. Nothing. A doll for others to move, for all intents and purposes. Only living for not caring to die.

She couldn't do that again. Not ever again. Not after having finally gotten the taste of what living is like. All thanks to Senpai, her kind and warm and amazing and perfect-in-every-way-that-matters Senpai. Losing that is- unthinkable, unacceptable, and the only thing so far that's managed to make her feel fear. It's a nasty emotion, but useful, and not just in others when she needs something from them. It reminds her to check and double check, to be diligent in her killings, to not make any mistakes and to never repeat those she fails to prevent, and above all, to hold back when everything else in her screams not to.

It's frustrating, but also fascinating to even feel all those things which amount to frustration in the first place. It's bliss to be so close to her, to be able to do even something as small as look at her, much less be allowed such intimate touch. To hear her laugh and want to (want to!) hear more of it. It's still an alien feeling to have something to want instead of just choosing what's easiest to do. Certainly, killing the tramps responsible for Taylor's suffering was not the easiest feat to perform, and it's only gotten more difficult with Hess, but so worth it – to make Senpai happy. To see her happy. The idea used to bewilder Ayano. Why would anyone do so much for anything or anyone? Yes, she knew other people had emotions that drove them and she had none, but- sight must not make much sense for the blind, either. And she was blind, so terribly blind, before Senpai cured her of it.

Compared to that life, every small thing she now has is better, and this is nothing short of heaven, with a promise of more to come, in time.

That's how relationships work, no? People don't marry the second they meet. Why, even she took some time before understanding what it was that was happening to her when she met Taylor, and she has reason to believe her love is greater than any of that which she's read of or seen in her entire life. People throw around the words so easily, that they love. Senpai's father is one of them. If he truly loved her, he would've done what Ayano has a long time ago, and still he dares to say he loves her. It's sickening.

Ah. There it is again. Anger. Why should he be allowed to spend time with her Love when it's clearly herself who loves Taylor more, who takes better care of her?

She pushes the unpleasant feeling away, focusing instead on Senpai's closeness to help it go along. It's difficult to stay angry when She's in Ayano's sight, and for that, the girl is grateful. She wouldn't want a stray thought to sour her time with Senpai. That would be a crime she could never forgive, even in death.

It's why the heroes are here. At least, Ayano's as sure as she can be of it after considering the alternatives. The news caused her some alarm when she first heard of the event, irrational fear gripping her heart at the possibility that, somehow, they know. She quickly dismissed the wouldn't be having a public show like this if that were the case, and besides, if someone suspected her, she'd have been accosted by now. Officially, the event is meant to help increase awareness of gang activity and bullying – pretty standard, although usually carried out by the police. Ayano's classmates say it's just a PR stunt, which, the girl supposes, it might be, given the recent string of student deaths. Really, it's pointless for her and Taylor to be here. She not planning on joining any gang, and she's already dealing with the bullying problem for her Love.

"Ayano?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we drop by a grocery on the way to my place? Dad asked me to make dinner today. I forgot to tell you with everything. You don't mind pancakes, do you?"

"No, that's no trouble. I love pancakes." Eating something Senpai makes for her? Why would she ever mind?

Taylor squirms in her arms, about to say something more when a commotion at the entrance steals her attention away. Ayano's lips curl in displeasure, what- oh. The heroes are here. Four in total, accompanied by their new principal, and only one that she recognizes – Miss Militia. The following two of are armored, in red and silver respectively. The last in their procession is a girl clothed in green and frills. A Ward, Ayano assumes by her small stature.

"Oh. I was hoping Armsmaster would come." Armsmaster, Armsmaster. Ah, right. The blue one.

"I thought you liked Miss Militia?"

"I mean- yeah, just- you know." She might, actually. Ayano doesn't know a lot of things, especially when it comes to reading people, but she's been getting steadily better at it since she started putting in honest effort so as to not put her foot in her mouth in front of her Love. She'd never let anyone else in close enough for that to matter, nor did she ever need it beyond appearing normal on a surface inspection. Even now, none of the girls who'd call her their friend knows more about her that she wants them to know, with the exception of-

Oh. So that's what happened in the hallway. Aisha must've joined Kristie's troop, then, if she can think of her now.

Regardless. If she understands what Taylor is saying right, then it's something to do with expectations and disappointment at anything else, no matter how pleasant, that was not the expected outcome. She can liken it to... having expected to have gone on a date with Senpai, only to find... no. No that's way worse than what she's going for. Rather - expecting to find both her targets dead, and finding that only one has died. Yes, that seems more appropriate.

Thoughts for another time – the girl decides as she disregards the heroes in favor of committing the moment to memory. Her warmth, Her smell, Her smile - all hers.

It's easy to let her imagination take over – to let herself think of waking up to this, of spending their mornings like this, limbs tangled and pondering the smile on her Beloved's lips. Of truly having Taylor in every sense of the word.

Yes, she could die like this, but the future is even more enticing.


End file.
